


Fish in a Tree

by Anobii1992



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29611500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anobii1992/pseuds/Anobii1992
Summary: “Everyone is a genius, but if you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree, it will go through life believing that it’s stupid.” - Albert EinsteinPrimary school teacher Yasmin Khan is in need of a fresh start, away from her past and everything it represents. But starting a new job is never easy, especially when your new co-worker seems to take an instant dislike to you. Cold, aloof and an absolute nightmare to work with, Yaz has no idea how she’s going to get through the year working with Doctor Juliette Smith.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 154
Kudos: 86





	1. End of the Holidays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you to my amazing beta Emmyphant, if you haven't read her Jolie and Yaz series then you're missing out and you definitely should! 
> 
> Also thank-you to Wonderfulbluishbox for talking through this with me a lot and to Walkerlister for the incredible cover art and for all the support and encouragement! 
> 
> This is just chapter one of (probably) fifty chapters that are part of a detailed (23,000 word) plan and is over half written so I feel fairly confident in saying that there will be two updates per week on Wednesdays and Sundays. Hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!

By the time she had made her eighth trip into the building, Yasmin Khan was already exhausted and that was with the random shopping trolley she had found to help. Why did her new classroom have to be so far away from the school entrance? Shaking out tired muscles she loaded up the trolley for one last trip.

The car park was full of potholes and old, like the rest of the school, which was a sprawling building from the 1960s. She let herself in with her temporary key card, she would have to get a photographic one on the first day, and pushed the trolley down the long corridors to her new room.

The school itself was an odd design and apparently in a perpetual state of building works. A newly built housing estate had meant the influx of kids had doubled and they were slowly building up from a one form entry school to two, in fact this was only the second year of having two classes per year group, both in Year One, which she would be teaching and the little ones in Reception. Most likely the school would be surrounded by building works for the next five years as they slowly added more classrooms and facilities but the upside of that would be state of the art facilities to work in.

Yaz had been hoping to meet her new year group teaching partner that day, but she was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the entire school seemed to be pretty much deserted, their classrooms ready to go. Clearly the teachers in this school did their setup at the beginning, rather than end of the long summer holidays.

Yaz felt intimidated as she looked around the empty room, it was a mess, and according to her friend Clara had once been a storage cupboard… that explained the tiny size of it. There would barely be enough room for all the desks for the kids, let alone the themed reading area she had to have and a couple of stations she wanted to set up with activities for the kids when they had finished their work… it would be a challenge that was for sure and she had no idea where to start.

Yaz stood in the middle of the mess eyeing it up hopelessly. Had it always been so hard to set up a classroom? Or was it just the sheer state of the room that she’d been assigned? Was she simply out of practice? She’d been out of teaching for the best part of two and a half years after all.

Yaz stepped out into the corridor, next door was the other Year One classroom. There was a door between them, but it had been locked when she tried and Yaz hesitantly let herself in, almost feeling like she was spying. Yaz stared in shock, the room was more than double the size of her own. There were spaces wide enough for an elephant to walk through between each table which would sit kids in groups of six whereas Yaz’s kids would be practically sitting on top of each other. She had a tonne of storage and it was all at the kids height and everything was impeccably neat and organised, completely ready to go other than the fact that the teacher appeared to have lost her desk chair.

She fired off a quick text to Clara, a good friend she had done her teacher training with and who had told her about the job opening when it came up.

 _Don’t worry, I’ll give you the lowdown on everyone tonight XX_ was her speedy reply, she seemed to have her phone constantly attached to her hand.

Yaz set to work. It was a nice enough room, she supposed. Standing in the main doorway the interactive board was on the left wall, the right wall had display boards and a door leading to the classroom of her teaching partner and the opposite wall had floor to ceiling windows and large, double doors leading out to a lovely, fenced off garden area that was just for the two Year One classes. A quick peek outside showed Yaz that the garden space was already set up and good to go and she felt a rush of gratitude towards her partner, the only thing she knew about the woman was her initials – JS as her classroom was named after her 1JS to Yaz’s 1YK. What was her name, she wondered? Jane, Janet, Joanne, Jill, Jemma, Joan, Josephine?

Hopefully the already set up outside area was a good sign that the year would go well with a supportive partner to show her the ropes of her new school. There was a also small block, almost like an add on, which appeared to hold the Year One storage facilities, cloakroom and toilets which could be accessed from either room and Yaz realised they would probably greet and dismiss the kids from there each day.

The first thing Yaz did was arrange the tables into three groups of three double desks at the back of the room and two at the front. There was a large rug patterned with shapes and she dragged it, it was heavier than it looked, to the front of the room and unrolled it in front of the board. That would be where she would be doing her main teaching. She positioned the teacher’s desk to the right of the board, between it and the window because it was the only place where it looked like the computer cables would actually allow the computer to be plugged into the board and the last pieces of furniture she had to deal were a couple of drawer units which were thankfully on wheels. Yaz considered herself to be pretty fit but dragging all the furniture around had made her sweat and her back ache.

There were boxes of resources everywhere and Yaz started divvying them up into piles – maths resources, literacy resources, art, science etc. The bigger and bulkier resources she took through to the cupboard and put on the empty shelves which were all up high for some reason. Apparently, JS whoever she was, had started filling from the bottom though Yaz wasn’t particularly tall so the top shelf remained empty.

By mid-afternoon, the classroom was looking decent. She had backed her boards with fresh paper, put a few personal bits on her desk and everything had found a home. It resembled a classroom rather than a dumping ground anyway which was certainly an improvement. There was still more to do of course, she would have to liaise with JS during their inset days about what to put on their display boards to start the year and how to set up their reading areas; apparently, they were a big deal in this school with each year group having to take on a theme. Yaz had her ideas and she hoped JS would like them.

Satisfied that the classroom was as ready as she was going to get it, Yaz tucked the adult chair, annoyingly not a wheelie desk chair, under the desk and turned out the lights.

Schools were always slightly creepy places in the summer holidays Yaz mused as she exited the building. The absence of children’s laughter and learning echoing through the corridors like there was during the school day. Or the frantic rush that happened at the end of the day while teachers tried to finish all of their marking and photocopying and getting set up for the next day. The emptiness was plain wrong.

Instead, there was no one else in sight, though she could hear the noise of the caretaker polishing the floor of the school hall but the whole place had a lonely, deserted air. She let herself out, squinting slightly against the brightness of the sun and got into her car, burning her hands slightly on the steering wheel. She needed to go home and shower, desperately!

Yaz parked her car in its usual spot and contemplated the stairs with a dissatisfied wrinkle of her nose. When Ryan had invited her to be his flat mate a few months ago he hadn’t told her the flat was on the fourth floor with no lift. She was fit, but on days like today the stairway was hot, stuffy and various smells leaked from the different apartments she passed. She could feel the heat physically sapping her strength as she climbed.

Ryan wasn’t home yet but Pting, her usually grouchy cat, was and he wound himself around her legs. He was pretty affectionate to her but wasn’t too fond of other people including Ryan (unless he was offering treats). Yaz scratched his fuzzy, grey head and headed down to her bedroom. Although Ryan had been living in the flat first, he had let her have the master bedroom with the ensuite; it was a large, spacious room with windows on two sides, huge, built-in wardrobes and the bathroom was bright and airy, clad in soft sandy tiles.

Yaz set the shower onto a cool setting, it was bliss after the heaviness of the day, and she luxuriated in actually feeling pleasantly chilled. She took her time, washing her hair carefully and detangling it with a mound of conditioner. She was supposed to be her first evening out with friends in a long time and she was simultaneously looking forward to it while also being incredibly nervous. But it was also the chance to pump Clara for information about her new school and colleagues.

Feeling happy and relaxed, Yaz put on her favourite Spotify playlist while she rummaged in her wardrobe for something to wear, still clad in a just a bath towel. She didn’t look too bad for a woman of twenty-seven, she decided. Her waist-length hair was still thick and dark without a trace of grey, she had no wrinkles yet and her diet and regular work outs meant she was fit and toned.

She rifled through her wardrobe again, selecting a pair of dark skinny jeans and a shirt she had bought a couple of summers ago but had never worn, she wasn’t even sure how it was still in her wardrobe. It was made of a light, flowy material and she experimented with tying the tails together to make it more of a cropped style. She looked in the mirror and instantly her good mood dipped as she took in her appearance again, different parts of it on display this time.

“Yaz, you here?” came Ryan’s voice, calling through the apartment.

“Bedroom,” she called back, picking up her phone to text Clara and cancel. Suddenly she didn’t feel much like going out anymore.

“Wow! You look hot Yaz!” Ryan complimented, staring slightly.

“Ryan! Eew! You’re like my brother!” Yaz scolded, rummaging in her drawer for a pair of pyjamas.

“Still hot. What’re you doing with those? Thought you were going out?”

“Don’t really feel like it anymore.”

“What happened?” Ryan asked, guiding Yaz to sit on the bed and sitting next to her. Yaz automatically picked up her Eeyore pillow pet she had got on a trip to Disney a few years ago and squeezed it. “You were all for it this morning.”

Yaz sighed heavily, looking away from him. He didn’t need to hear her whining about her problems again.

“Yaz, you look gorgeous. No one is gonna be looking at your scars.” Ryan said gently, correctly interpreting Yaz’s silence.

Yaz shrugged non-committedly.

“Your scars are bad-ass Yaz. They show you’re strong, a survivor.”

“They’re hideous.”

“No. They’re not Yaz. I know you don’t like them but they’re not hideous.”

Yaz absently traced the biggest one, it was also the oldest, it started just below her rib cage and went straight down, disappearing under the waistband of her jeans and veering off to avoid her belly button. It was peppered with smaller marks from where the wound had been stapled together. There were three others, all horizontal, in different spots across her stomach, the newest one still in the final stages of healing.

“Cover them if it makes you feel confident Yaz, but go out with your friends. You can't hang around here forever. Go have fun or I will make it my personal mission to annoy you all night.”

Yaz smiled despite herself.

“Thanks Ryan. You’re a good mate.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder pulling her into a half hug.

“Course I am. That’s why you love me!”

With her hair and make-up done, Yaz felt a little better and she programmed her phone to take her to the restaurant Clara and Bill had picked for their night out. She’d only been in the area for four weeks and hadn’t really learned her way around yet. But it felt like the right thing to do. She couldn’t live at home with her parents forever after all and moving a hour and a half drive away from them felt like the right thing to do, even if it was scary.

The restaurant was easy enough to find and Yaz could see Bill waving at her frantically from a table outside.

Yaz grinned, it really had been too long, and she pulled Bill into a tight hug.

“Can’t believe how long it’s been!” Bill laughed, returning Yaz’s bone crushing hug. They hadn’t even sat down before Clara appeared from nowhere, a tray of drinks on the table.

“You know I can’t…” Yaz started to say, eyeing up the cocktails.

“Don’t worry, yours is the alcohol-free kind” Clara reassured her, handing over a deep pink drink adorned with a slice of pineapple which Yaz sipped. She had no idea what was in it but it tasted great… citrus possibly?

The three women browsed their menus for a few minutes, easing the initial awkwardness of Yaz meeting up with friends she had largely ignored over the last few years.

They placed their orders, salad for Yaz, a burger for Bill and linguini for Clara with the waiter when he arrived and after that the atmosphere felt a little easier to deal with. 

“How’ve you been, Yaz?” Bill asked. “Can’t believe I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Yaz dodged, her standard response.

“This is us, Yaz. How’ve you been?”

“I’m okay… really,” she added at Clara’s disbelieving look.

“Ready to go back to work?”

“Yeah, I’m excited. New town, new house, new school. It’s a new start and I really need that I think.”

“I’m excited for us to be working together!” Clara told her warmly. “Even if you will be finger painting with the babies.”

“They’re not babies, and we do not finger paint!” Yaz exclaimed in mock offence.

Their food arrived and they tucked in.

“So, tell me about this school,” Yaz asked quickly, eager to change the subject away from her health and the reasons she needed a new start.

“It’s okay. Kids are hard work. We’ve got more kids living in poverty than any other school in the area, huge numbers of kids with special educational needs, more than half have English as an additional language so they’re a challenging bunch.”

“Sounds way more interesting than my last school, pretty little village place with wealthy parents who always wanted to know why their little darling wasn’t top of the class.”

Clara laughed. “It’s never boring that’s for sure, we often joke that they could write a soap opera about us! The other staff are great though the head can be a bit psychotic… who’re you working with again?”

“No idea, class is called 1JS… What?” she added, seeing Clara’s face fall.

“Doctor Smith… I forgot she was moving to Year One this year.”

“What does she normally teach?”

“Year Four, I’ve never had much to do with her thankfully.”

“Why thankfully?” Yaz asked nervously. That didn’t sound promising.

“She’s… a bit of a strange one. Don’t call her Miss Smith, it’s Doctor or Doctor Smith. She’s a bit of a cold fish, doesn’t really seem to get on with anyone other than the kids.”

“Oh… great.” Yaz muttered. Just what she wanted, a teaching partner who was apparently not so easy to get on with.

“I’m sure once you get to know her, she’ll be fine.”

“Does anyone know her?”

“No… not really. She’s been at the school longer than me, but she keeps herself to herself.”

“You’re easy to get on with Yaz” Bill interrupted. “I’m sure you’ll win her over.”

“Anything else I should know?” Yaz asked nervously.

“Not really… don’t think she’s ever taught kids as young as five before but seriously, all the kids love her so she must do something right. Probably the reason she hasn’t been fired ‘cause she really rubs the adults up the wrong way… oh she’s in…”

What precisely she was going to say, Yaz never found out because at that moment they were interrupted.

“Everything okay over here?” Their waiter was back and smiling cheerfully and when he left their conversation moved on to other topics, Clara’s fiancée Danny whom Yaz had never met, Bill’s girlfriend Heather whom Yaz had also never met… it was an ordinary night out with her friends, Yaz hadn’t realised how much she’d missed that. It had been a long time coming but she could do this. This would be her fresh start.


	2. Doctor Smith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juliette is my baby and I love her. I hope you will too, please be nice.
> 
> Also, AwkwardYaz is now officially a thing.

The next morning started off terribly for Yaz. She woke peacefully, the sun peeping through her curtains and she revelled in how incredibly comfortable she was, stretching out and enjoying the luxury of the huge king sized bed which she was only just getting used to. Up until she had moved in with Ryan a few weeks ago she had slept in the same single bed she’d had her entire life. There were still the remnants of sparkly unicorn stickers along the top of the headboard to prove it. Yaz rolled over lazily and checked the time on her phone.

7:45am.

“SHIT!”

Her serenity gone in an instant, Yaz was out of bed in a flash, hurtling towards the bathroom. Usually, she was in work by now, she was nothing if not an early bird, and she got straight under the water, not even bothering to wait for it to warm up. At least she had washed her hair the night before, so she didn’t need to do that again.

Wrapped in her towel Yaz realised she had forgotten to ask Clara what the dress code was for inset days, some schools expected teachers to dress like teachers, others were happy for them to wear jeans. Yaz went for the middle ground, wearing one of her more casual teacher outfits, a mid length green skirt with white flowers and a white blouse given the warmth of the day. She added a pair of flats and braided her hair tightly so it was out of her way.

8:05am.

The training session started at half past eight and the school was at least a fifteen-minute drive away. Yaz grabbed her bag, thankful that she had packed it the night before, but quickly double checked it had everything she needed – diary, notebook, pen, purse, travel mug with her favourite tea bags. She glanced longingly at the selection of cereal but she didn’t have time. Instead she downed her meds with a swig of water and ate a banana as she grabbed her lunch and water bottle from the fridge, stuffed her phone in her pocket and snatched her keys from the bowl by the door.

“Aren’t you late…?” Ryan asked, appearing from the bathroom.

“Yes! Feed Pting for me!” Yaz called, already careening out the door and sprinting for the stairs.

Ryan rolled his eyes and scratched Pting’s head. “Guess that means you and I are going to be friends today, huh buddy?” he asked.

There was traffic. Of course, there was traffic and Yaz inwardly swore to herself as she impatiently drummed the steering wheel with her fingers.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she muttered.

Finally the light turned green and Yaz drove as fast as she (legally) could down the main road, trying to remember which exit she needed when they all looked alike. She had only been to the school once for her interview plus the day before and on neither occasion had she felt under so much pressure.

By the grace of God or something, she found the right exit the first time and slowed down to try and navigate the housing estate. She had gotten lost in it both times she had been before. This time though, she only got lost once as she looked for the large, low building with iron railings… it looked more like a prison from the outside than a primary school though the inside was nice enough… lots of purple which was the colour of the school’s uniform.

Yaz checked her watch.

8:30am precisely.

She was late. She grabbed her bag and sprinted towards the front door, pressing the buzzer frantically to be let in because of course, in her panic, she had forgotten her lanyard with her temporary key card. It would also have allowed her to sign in automatically rather than waiting for a terminally slow computer to do it manually.

8:34 am.

Resisting the temptation to swear again and curbing her desire to take the corridor to the hall at a sprint Yaz power walked to the Key Stage One hall, there were two apparently, and slipped in at the back, relieved to see that Clara had saved her a seat.

“What happened?” Clara mouthed, apparently reluctant to interrupt the woman speaking at the front, her eyes full of concern.

“Overslept,” Yaz replied with a grimace as Clara rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the front.

The woman speaking, Yaz deduced, was her new Headteacher, Melissa Masters. Tall, slim, with high cheekbones and curly hair done in an almost demented bun she certainly looked like a woman not to be crossed. According to Clara she could be petty and played favourites too so Yaz had already decided to stay out of her way as much as possible though as she was taking on the lead for phonics in the school, that probably wasn’t going to happen. Hopefully she would be able to stay on her good side.

The training was all familiar, Melissa droned on about school policies, school clubs, marking expectations… it went on and on. Yaz struggled to pay attention, most of it was pretty standard stuff but she diligently made notes anyway, hoping to make a slightly better impression than her tardiness had. When Melissa had finished, she moved on to safeguarding and their legal duties in how to keep children safe in education. While it was much the same every year, it was long and inevitably a depressing subject.

Yaz couldn’t help but gaze around at the staff, it was a big enough team, about ten teachers, a handful of teaching assistants, lunch staff, office staff, a caretaker, about forty in all. She wondered how long it would take to learn everyone’s names, who would be friendly at lunchtime, who would help her out when she needed it, who would always be in a drama but most of all she wondered which one was Juliette. She was the only new member of staff so Juliette must know who she is, hopefully she would come and introduce herself when they break for lunch.

But alas, when they stopped for lunch, Yaz was immediately caught by her new boss and she squirmed under the woman’s intense gaze.

“You were late this morning.”

“I know I’m sorry. Won’t make a habit of it, I overslept.”

“Don’t let it happen again… where’s your badge?”

“I was in a panic, left it on my bed.”

“Not a great start is it Yasmin?”

“I know, I’m usually more organised than this.”

“I know you have been out of teaching for a while Miss Khan, I know what happened at your last school, but you come with excellent references and good experience. I hope you do not let us down. We work in very challenging circumstances in this school, it is vital that everyone pulls their weight.”

Melissa Masters’ gaze was intense and Yaz struggled to maintain her composure.

“I trust you are ready for the training you are _supposed_ to be delivering this afternoon?”

Yaz nodded. “Yeah, everything I need is in my classroom and the training presentation is loaded on my laptop, I just need to bring everything in and plug my laptop into the projector.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it.”

She left the hall, her high heeled boots clip-clopping slightly against the wooden floor.

By the time Melissa walked off the hall was empty and Yaz fled to her classroom, shaking slightly from the encounter. It was not at all the impression she had wanted to make on her first day and frankly, she wanted to cry.

Yaz was shaking and she slowly sank down into her desk chair, gripping so tightly to the edge of her desk that her knuckles were turning white. She could feel herself breathing too hard and she tried very hard to remember the grounding techniques she had been taught.

What were they again?

Why couldn’t she remember?

“Yaz?”

Someone was talking.

“Yaz it’s Clara. You’re okay. You’re safe. I want you to list five things you can see for me okay?”

Lists. That was it.

What could she see?

Everything felt blurry and foggy.

It hurt to breathe.

“Yaz, come on, five things for me.” Clara encouraged.

“Desk… Laptop… Pen,” Yaz wheezed. “Water bottle. Display Board.”

“Good Yaz. Just keep breathing okay? I’m going to count for you.”

Yaz did her best to focus on the sound of Clara’s voice, listening to her counting and trying to match her breathing to it. It was hard but the more she tried the more she could feel the fog that had been surrounding her head begin to disperse.

“Are you okay?” Clara asked gently as Yaz allowed her head to fall forward, exasperated with herself.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re still shaking.”

“I need to get this stuff ready for my training session.”

“I thought the panic attacks had stopped…” Clara probed.

“They have!... mostly anyway,” Yaz conceded under Clara’s gaze.

“Yaz, are you sure you’re ready to be back at work?” Clara asked carefully.

“I need to do this Clara, after what happened… after everything in the last few years. I need to do this for myself or I’ll end up living back with my parents on benefits or something. I have to do this and I'm ready, it’s just been a bad morning.”

“In that case, what can I do to help you get ready?” Clara offered positively.

“I’ve got packs of resources for everyone, so they all need to be carried through, they’re pretty heavy…”

“Should you even be lifting heavy stuff?”

“I’m fine Clara. I promise. I can lift stuff again, it’s fine.”

Clara looked at her disbelievingly but headed off to find the shopping trolley to make things easier and between them they carted the heavy packs through to the hall, laying them out on tables for everyone to have a look at and use in the training sessions.

“Right” Clara announced, checking her watch. “You’ve got about eight minutes to eat and go to the loo, I’ll see you after school, good luck!”

She wrapped her arms around Yaz briefly, but Yaz stiffened in her embrace as she realised what Clara had said.

“Does it still take you a long time to…” Clara trailed off.

Yaz nodded miserably and quickly headed for the toilets. She didn’t have time for both, and she knew she would never make it through the session without a chance to go. She could always eat after school. Clara shot her a sympathetic glance before heading off down the corridor, Yaz was only training the teachers that taught the youngest three year groups and Clara was receiving training on something else.

By the time Yaz was finished in the bathroom, everyone for the training session seemed to have arrived and she nervously made her way to the front before introducing herself and getting started. She trained her eyes on the back of the room and tried not to look at any of her new colleagues.

Although she was nervous when she started, as the session went on, Yaz found herself becoming more and more confident. The new phonics programme was one in which she had a lot of experience, having taught it for years at her previous school. It took a lot of getting used to, but it did work and the unerring consistency of it meant it suited children in a school such as this one very well and she actually found herself enjoying fielding some of the questions that were thrown her way. The staff that asked them seemed friendly and interested and Yaz took that as a positive sign that things were going to go well and she would be able to settle into the new school. 

The training took the entire afternoon, not finishing until half past four, which Yaz had been expecting but by the end she was definitely ready for a break and she noticed that all the packets of biscuits she had laid out on tables before she started had been opened and most of them had been finished. However even after the training Yaz found herself being peppered with questions from various members of staff and as such it was after five before she finally finished. At least everyone had taken their resources with them so all she had to do was pick up a few empty biscuit wrappers and chuck them in the bin and unplug her laptop before she could go and find the mysterious Juliette. It wasn’t just about meeting her, she wanted the chance to talk about planning for the year, what they were going to teach, were there plans in place they needed to follow, or would it be more flexible, what their timetable would be like for the day… there was a lot to discuss and Yaz knew the anxious butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t begin to abate until she had a better idea of what the year might bring.

Yaz would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly put out that Juliette hadn’t even made the effort to introduce herself and she was even more annoyed when she realised Juliette had already left. After a full day receiving training in the same room and giving training, not to mention an embarrassing anxiety attack which, if she had been in the classroom, she would definitely have overheard. Unless she hadn’t been in for some reason which could explain it.

The next morning, Friday, Yaz was determined that the day was going to go better. She was finally going to meet her partner for the year, she would have a clearer idea of what to expect… all in all she would be able to go home in a considerably better mood than she had the night before when all she had felt was stress and had spent most of the evening venting and stressing with poor Ryan who, bless him, had let her do it.

Feeling considerably more positive, Yaz walked into school with a spring in her step and headed down to her new classroom. 1JS was still in darkness with the door closed so Yaz headed into 1YK and turned on her laptop, the way she tended to start every day as inevitably it would take a while to boot up.

Computer on, Yaz’s next priority was tea and she wandered up to the staff room. Unsurprisingly, given that it was only just gone 7am, it was still empty and Yaz made her tea with one of her own tea bags, the offering in the staff room was uninspiring to say the least, and checked out a few of the notices on the board while she waited for the kettle to boil – the lunch menu, safeguarding policies, playground duty rota (looked like they went out as year group teams so she would be out with Juliette three break times a week), PE hall timetable… Yaz made a mental note to come back with a notebook to jot some of it all down, knowing she couldn’t possibly remember everything.

Walking back down the corridor, Yaz was pleasantly surprised to see lights on in 1JS. Taking a deep breath and trying to forget what Clara had told her so she could form her own opinions, Yaz knocked lightly on the door and let herself in.

The room was occupied by the woman Yaz presumed was Juliette, who was sitting behind her desk which faced into the room. She had soft looking blonde hair which cut into a neat, chin-length bob and was wearing a navy, button down blouse with a tiny rainbow detail on the breast pocket. Yaz wouldn’t have described her as pretty precisely, there was something about her closed off, slightly cold expression that precluded that, but she was certainly striking.

“Hi” Yaz said cheerfully. “I’m Yasmin Khan, Yaz to my friends. I assume you’re Juliette?” she introduced herself, offering her hand for Juliette to shake.

Juliette put her pen down and shook Yaz’s hand. Her grip wasn’t as strong as Yaz would have expected and her hand freezing cold though it matched the expression on her face perfectly.

Yaz couldn’t help but find it quite rude that she didn’t bother standing up to shake her hand.

“I was wondering how long you were going to be. Shall we get started? We need to have the long and medium term plans up by the end of the day and think about what we’re teaching next week.”

Yaz was pleasantly surprised to hear another Yorkshire accent when she spoke, it reminded her of home. Her tone, however, was less pleasant. As was the fact that she had actually been there for quite a while and it was barely quarter past seven anyway, she was hardly late. Especially when the rest of the corridor was still in darkness, the other teachers having not yet arrived.

“I’ll just get my laptop and desk chair, I hate sitting on those tiny kids chairs don’t you?”

Juliette stared at her but didn’t offer a verbal response. It gave Yaz the vague feeling of being x-rayed and she hurried into her own room to collect the bits she’d mentioned as well as a notebook, pen and her diary which she set up at the kids desks opposite Juliette who made no move to come and join her and instead stayed at her own desk.

One thing Yaz could say about Juliette was that she was certainly efficient. Within an hour they had adapted the previous year’s long term plan to suit their needs and by ten both it and the medium term plan had been submitted to Melissa. Juliette didn’t waste any time with chatting or getting to know each other as she ploughed ruthlessly through the to-do list that she had composed. That was definitely a good thing.

What was less good was that she clearly wasn’t used to teaching with a partner and seemed to have a ‘my way or the highway’ kind of attitude. She certainly had lots of ideas and for someone who had never taught so low down the school before she had an impressive handle on the curriculum and the logical order in which it should be taught. What she seemed less aware of was just how much support the younger kids needed and if Yaz was honest, she very much struggled to see how she would relate to them despite Clara’s assurances that all the kids loved her. She struck Yaz as more of a university lecturer than ‘teacher of the tiny humans’ as Ryan phrased it.

On the plus side, the relentless pace meant that by lunchtime the planning was done, which would allow their afternoon to be dedicated to making resources for their first week back and getting their display boards and book corners ready. To match their first topic which was space, Juliette had decided on a space themed book corner and had already made cute pictures to decorate with and about two dozen stars to go in hers. It rankled with Yaz slightly, clearly she had never planned on negotiating and Yaz was finding that she was already fed up with her. Maybe she was just shy?

“Are you coming to the staff room for lunch?” Yaz asked as she gathered her things and her mammoth to do list.

“I never eat in the staff room, I prefer to eat in my classroom.”

It was the most Yaz had got out of her all day on anything that wasn’t strictly related to the kids’ education.

“Oh, okay…”

Was she supposed to stay with her? Yaz wasn’t sure. She certainly didn’t want to, and the staff room sounded like a haven from the chilly atmosphere in room 1JS.

“I guess I’ll see you after lunch then.”

Once again, Juliette didn’t provide extraneous comments, but it made Yaz uncomfortable and she babbled, anxious to fill the silence as she shut down her laptop.

“I wish we got wheelie desk chairs; this is a pain in the butt!” she joked as she lugged the heavy chair back into her own room. She tucked it under the table and went back to Juliette’s for her laptop.

“Hey, what do I have to do to get a wheelie chair?” she asked, watching as Juliette pushed herself smoothly away from her desk.

But Juliette wasn’t sitting on a fancy desk chair, instead she was sitting in a wheelchair. And it wasn’t a clunky one like the hospital gave you when you broke your leg, it was obviously hers. Like, there was something seriously _wrong_ with her. The chair was small and neat with a high, curved backrest, a silver frame and Juliette’s feet, which were clad in heavy, padded, brown boots despite the heat, were strapped to a foot plate, while her legs leaned ever so slightly to one side.

“I… oh… shit… I'm so sorry… shit… you’re in a wheelchair,” Yaz stuttered, completely taken by surprise. She suddenly felt incredibly guilty about how she had assumed Juliette rude for not standing up earlier to shake her hand. And for thinking her cold and obnoxious. She couldn’t help but stare and she swallowed nervously.

“ _Am I_?” she asked incredulously. “Thank-you Yasmin, I don’t know how I would manage to get myself through the day if you hadn’t pointed that out to me,” she added coldly, her stare icier than ever, and she wheeled herself over to a cupboard under the window. 

Somehow, she had just become even more closed off than she had been before.

Yaz stared for a moment longer, her mouth opening and shutting unflattering like a fish. She felt like an idiot. How could she not have noticed?

Well shit. That could have gone better. How had she not noticed?

Juliette extracted a simple, navy blue lunchbox, balanced it on her legs and brought it to her desk. She opened a large book filled with miniscule writing and complicated looking diagrams that Yaz couldn’t make out from where she was standing. She was completely ignoring Yaz and Yaz left before she could say anything else stupid.


	3. Breathing on the Beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The views and language held and used by Yaz are very ableistic. They are not representative of my own views nor of how Juliette would describe herself. Yaz will learn and Juliette is awesome.

“Morning Yazzy!”

Yaz groaned and pulled the duvet up over her head as Ryan bounded into her room enthusiastically, plonking himself on the end of her bed.

“Clear off,” Yaz groaned.

“Even if I brought you coffee, Yazzy?”

She pulled the grey and yellow patterned duvet away from her face. “Where’s the coffee?”

He held it out to her, just out of her reach, forcing her to sit up to take it. She did, inhaling its scent with a satisfied smile.

“Decaf?” she checked.

“Of course it is, I wouldn’t mess with you like that Yaz, you know that,” He promised sincerely.

“How come you’re so grumpy, school hasn’t even started yet. You can't possibly be tired already.”

“How come you’re so cheerful this early in the morning? You were out half the night.” Yaz retorted, the coffee not having kicked in enough yet to dispel her grumpiness.

“Had a great night Yaz, what can I say?” he grinned cheekily.

“What’s her name?”

“Oi! I am a gentleman thank you very much… seriously though, what’s up? Did something happen yesterday? It’s not like you to still be in bed at eleven,” he said worriedly, his voice morphing into concern.

 _Eleven?_ She must have been tossing and turning even later than she had realised.

“Just made an idiot of myself at work is all.” She finally admitted.

“What happened?” Ryan probed, wiping the ridiculous grin off his face and looking at her intently.

“Finally met my new teaching partner…”

“Yeah? Was she as much of a bitch as Clara said she was?”

“No…” Yaz recounted her morning with Juliette. “… and then I asked her what I had to do to get a decent chair like hers and she moved away from the desk and she was in a wheelchair.” She admitted, her face flushing bright red with embarrassment.

Ryan burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny Ryan!” Yaz complained indignantly. “What if I really upset her?”

“Yaz you don’t know why she uses a wheelchair, there could be a million reasons, but I can’t imagine that she’s so sensitive about it that she’s gone home and cried herself to sleep just because you said something a bit silly, especially when there was no way you could have known.”

“You don’t know that! It could be a new thing and she’s really self-conscious about it.”

“Nah if it was new Clara would have mentioned it. You said everything in her classroom was low down. Sounds like she’s used to it and I bet Clara didn’t mention it because she’s been in a wheelchair for as long as she’s known her, so she genuinely didn’t think about it. It’s not that big a deal,” he said with a shrug.

Yaz buried her face in her hands. “How am I supposed to face her on Monday?”

“Yaz you’re a nice person. You just need to relax and get to know each other, you’ll be working together pretty closely. But seriously, don’t worry, you’re easy to get on with. You get on well with everyone.”

“Yeah, until I don’t.” Yaz muttered darkly, refusing to allow herself to think about the last time she hadn’t got on well with a colleague.

“This is a new start Yaz. Juliette will be fine once you get to know her. Now as your best friend it is my duty not to allow you to mope around here all weekend. Get up, we’re going to the beach.”

“Who said you’re my best friend?” Yaz retored mockingly.

Ryan fell back onto the bed, clutching his chest in mock pain. “For that Yaz, you have to buy the doughnuts!”

Yaz laughed. “You know I can't eat that stuff anymore,” she pointed out.

“Yeah yeah, you and your rabbit food. Get moving, I know how long you take in the bathroom.”

Yaz rolled her eyes but she got up anyway, heading into the ensuite.

Yaz drove, it was an hour or so to the coast but with the radio playing, the windows down and Ryan’s tuneless singing it didn’t feel long. Given it was the last weekend of freedom for most kids, the place was packed and Yaz ended up having to park nearly a mile away from the pier. Oh well, it could be her workout for the day by the time she had walked back as well. She shrugged her bag over her shoulder and joined Ryan, enjoying the feeling of the sun toasting her bare legs sticking out from her denim shorts.

But she eyed the crowds anxiously, she hated being around too many people and she shot Ryan a grateful smile as he squeezed her hand reassuringly.

As soon as the pier was in sight, Ryan was putting his long legs to good use and was striding as fast as he could to the coconut shy, forcing Yaz to have to jog after him to keep up. She watched as he took careful aim, fired… and missed spectacularly.

“It’s rigged,” he complained crossly while Yaz laughed. “Hey if you’re so good, you do it then.” He held out the gun for her to take.

Yaz rolled her eyes and cockily took hold of the bright yellow gun, handing the owner a token. She easily shot a coconut on five out of six attempts and won herself a slightly lopsided looking stuffed ginger tabby cat with pink whiskers and white paws and ears.

“How’d you do that?” Ryan asked, not quite keeping how impressed he was out of his voice.

“I was going to join the police, remember? I were in the cadets for a few years as a teenager, was good at it too… do you want the cat?”

“Nah, Pting’s enough cat for me thanks… Can we go on the dodgems?”

“Oh, you’re going down Ryan!” Yaz teased, heading across the wooden planks to the brightly coloured dodgem tent.

They paid for separate cars and Yaz clambered into her own, a pink and silver one with an evil expression painted on its bumper while Ryan selected a metallic blue one with painted orange flames. She looped the useless excuse for a seatbelt over her head and under her arms, smelling the static in the air and shooting Ryan mock evil looks and winding him up slightly. The countdown buzzer beeped three times and suddenly the car lurched forwards.

Yaz made a beeline for Ryan but was blocked by two little kids who she nudged lightly while they giggled and squealed. Someone else nudged her and before she realised what was happening, she was involved in a ‘pile-up’, completely wedged in by a mass of about eight cars. By the time she broke free she realised she had lost Ryan in the confusion. Determined to ram him she steered her car away from most of the ‘traffic’ towards the outer part of the rink, receiving a few bumps on the way but she couldn’t see Ryan. But it was so chaotic she wasn’t that surprised. Pressing her accelerator as hard as she could Yaz took off again, confident that she would find him easily but before she could spot him someone crashed into her with a force that caused her to slide forward on the cheap, plastic seat and collide with the steering wheel. A jolt of pain, emanating from her stomach, flashed through her body, making her gasp. She froze. The sounds from the pier were getting louder and louder, the colours were on overdrive, too bright and too much, she felt overwhelmed and sick. The ride had stopped but she couldn’t move.

Ryan appeared from nowhere, his hand on her shoulder.

“What is it, what’s happened?” he demanded, his face swimming in and out of focus.

“My stomach,” she gasped.

“Okay, Yaz, you’re healed, remember? You’ve been given the go ahead to do whatever you want to do. I don’t think you’ve done any damage, just given yourself a fright, you’re remembering the pain from before, not feeling it now okay?”

Yaz could hear him but she couldn’t respond, like her voice had been carved out and she stared at Ryan uncomprehendingly. What was it she was supposed to be doing?

“Keep breathing Yaz, we’re gonna get you out and then it’ll be easier for you.”

Ryan was manipulating her limbs, relieving her of the seatbelt and lifting it over her head. He was talking to her but she could barely hear him.

“Yaz, I want you to get up for me, can you do that?”

Yaz nodded dumbly, accepting Ryan’s hand as he helped her out. He was right. It was easier to breathe now. As soon as she was up Ryan guided her towards a bench at the edge of the pier. She was already feeling marginally better, Ryan was good at reminding her what was what.

She sat down on the bench, it was a little removed from the crowds and Ryan sat next to her protectively. He had a hand on her lower back and it’s firm pressure was helping her remain tethered to reality.

“You alright?” he asked gently as Yaz slowly sat up a few minutes later, the colours and sounds around her slowly turning back to normal.

“Yeah… I think. Like you said I think I was remembering the pain rather than feeling it. I'm okay.”

“Wanna sit for a minute anyway?”

“Please.”

And so they sat, taking in the crowds around them. Yaz’s attention was soon grabbed by a young woman in a bright pink wheelchair. She looked to be about twenty-five or so and was chatting animatedly to her carer who was pushing her wheelchair. Her wheelchair was different to Juliette’s though, bigger and more supportive and the woman’s hands were strapped to it. Yaz hadn’t noticed Juliette having anything obviously wrong with her hands.

Yaz couldn’t help but think about Juliette. Did she need a lot of help with things? Presumably she still lived at home with her parents or had a carer of some kind. Would she, Yaz, be expected to help Juliette while they were at work? Did she need help to get to the staff room? Maybe that was why she didn’t go, because she couldn’t actually get there. Why didn’t she bring her parents or her carer to work? Maybe she did but they hadn’t been there yesterday?

The woman in the pink wheelchair and her carer disappeared into the disabled toilet and a horrible thought struck Yaz… would she have to take Juliette to the toilet? Did she even use the toilet? Yaz remembered a woman on the ward last time she had been in hospital, she had been in a wheelchair too. She’d had a catheter in all the time, a bag collecting her urine strapped to her leg. What if she had to empty it? She wasn’t sure she could handle that, surely she would have someone who could do that for her? Right?

The two women were in there for a long time, Yaz wondered what on earth they were doing in there. But now that Yaz had noticed that woman, the pier suddenly seemed to have loads of people with obvious disabilities, there were elderly people in wheelchairs with small wheels being pushed by their family, a young man in a sporty looking chair with his friends, a little boy in something that seemed to be a cross between a wheelchair and a buggy, he had loads of tubes connected to his face though Yaz didn’t know what they were. There were people with walking sticks, people with crutches, a man with a prosthetic leg, a woman using a white cane… How had she never noticed before?

Were all of Juliette’s friends disabled? Yaz wondered. Was her husband? Could she even _get_ married she wondered before Ryan finally interrupted her spiralling thoughts.

“Yaz, let’s go down to the beach!” he decided excitedly, already standing up.

Yaz rolled her eyes but got up. Some days, Ryan reminded her of the kids she taught, still five years old at heart, but he was kind, loyal and had always been there for her, right through the very worst times in her life. And he reminded her that she didn’t have to be serious all the time, she could relax and have fun and that there was more to her life than work.

She allowed him to grab her hand and drag her down to the sand where they found a spot to spread out their towels. No sooner than they had put their things down, Ryan was off again but when he reappeared, he was carrying two ice-creams, one was huge and adorned with all the trimmings which he kept for himself and he handed her a small, plain one.

“I know you have to be careful, but this is only little, it’s fine right?”

Yaz eyed it up. She hadn’t actually had ice-cream yet, but she had had dairy and sugar and that’s all it was. Plus, it looked amazing.

“I'm sure it’s fine, thank-you.” She took it off him and had a lick. Bliss. For the next five minutes she concentrated on digging her toes into the sand and licking the drips of ice cream before they were lost forever to the sand as well as laughing at Ryan who managed to give himself an ice-cream moustache.

“I’m going swimming, you coming?” Ryan asked when he was done, already stripping down to his swim trunks which he had been wearing all day.

She balked. She hadn’t worn a swim-suit for a long time even if there was one at the bottom of her bag.

“Come on Yaz, a swimsuit will keep you covered and you _love_ swimming.”

“I don’t know…”

“You’re a lifeguard, Yaz! And I'm dyspraxic! I might need you to rescue me!” he proclaimed dramatically. “Come with me, please? It’ll be more fun.”

Yaz sighed heavily. The whole reason she’d moved away from her parents and in with Ryan was for a fresh start, to not let the events of her past rule the chances of her future.

“Okay,” she agreed with a small smile.

Yaz wrapped a towel around her and slipped her suit on underneath while Ryan modestly looked away even though there was nothing to see.

Yaz was glad she had agreed to it. The water was shockingly, wonderfully cold and no one paid them a second glance as they swam, ducked and splashed each other and raced, generally behaving like they were still teenagers and not mature adults with responsible jobs in education and engineering. When they finally retired back to the beach, some of the heat had dissipated from the day and they dried off, grateful for their clean clothes.

Ryan was still feeling chilly and took off for a walk but Yaz was tired after her night of no sleep and fished out her book. She propped her head up on her bag and made herself comfortable, sunglasses perched on her nose and knees bent. Could Juliette do stuff like this? Her life must be so sad and boring confined to a wheelchair like she was, always needing someone to take her places and do things for her.

She was a Doctor though, presumably whatever had put her in a wheelchair, accident or illness, meant she couldn’t practice anymore. She wasn’t much older than Yaz though and it took ages to become a Doctor, she would’ve only graduated a few years before if she had been studying medicine. That must have been really hard, to put all that work in and not be able to use it. No wonder she was so bitter and Yaz suddenly found herself feeling very sorry for her.

Ryan was gone for ages, so long that Yaz had actually had to pull her cardigan on but when he returned, he was holding several paper wrapped, fragrant parcels from the local chippy.

Yaz eyed them warily, but they smelled so good and she’d been fine with the ice-cream. She decided to take the risk, she couldn’t live her whole life in fear of flare-ups. They _were_ good and she munched quietly.

“Something on your mind Yaz?” Ryan asked, eating his fish with a stupidly useless wooden fork.

“Just wondering how she does it.”

“How who does what?”

“Juliette. How does she teach from a wheelchair? Like I can't even imagine it.”

“She might not use it full time,” Ryan pointed out fairly.

“But how does she teach sitting down all the time? How does she write on her board or get stuff off shelves or put up her displays?”

“You teach sitting down, you sit on your chair with the patchwork blanket on and the kids are on the floor.”

“Yeah, but then I walk around the classroom when they're at their tables.”

“So maybe she has the kids come to her or you said her room was really big, maybe there’s enough room for her wheelchair to get past.”

“Well, what about PE?”

“Yaz I don’t know! I've never met the woman and I don’t know anyone who uses a wheelchair! But loads of teachers in PE just shout instructions and expect to the kids to get on with it. They don’t all love it as much as you do. It’s not like she’s a new teacher, I’m sure she has it all figured out.”

“I wonder how she disciplines kids when she’s no taller than they are?”

Ryan looked shocked. “Do you use your height to intimidate kids?” he asked.

“Well, no, I usually come down to their level.”

“See.”

Yaz smiled sheepishly.

“Seriously Yaz, stop stressing about it. You’re making it a way bigger deal than it needs to be. If she needs help with something, she’ll ask for it. And I'm sure she’s figured out how to teach from her wheelchair by now.

Yaz bitterly regretted her fish and chips… or was it the ice-cream? She wasn’t sure which one had proved her nemesis but either way, she spent most of the rest of the night from when they got home either curled up in bed or in the bathroom, wracked by violent cramps and sobbing.

Ryan had tried to distract her and comfort her, but she couldn’t bear for him to see her like that and sent him away. So he sent her funny memes over text instead and left a plate of crackers and fresh water on her bedside table. It was sweet and she felt utterly undeserving of his care.

Mercifully, she was feeling a marginally better by Sunday morning and she ambled into the kitchen in her pyjamas. Her first job was to feed Pting who had apparently forgiven her for shutting him out of her bedroom the night before as he rubbed happily around her ankles and she spent a few minutes making a fuss of him. Pting wolfed his food like he had never eaten before as she poured herself a bowl of shredded wheat with dairy free milk and a mug of black tea before settling on the sofa and flicking on the TV to some sort of Sunday morning chat show that she had zero interest in watching. 

With her empty bowl on the coffee table and Pting on her lap, Yaz had no desire to move, knowing full well she wouldn’t have another Sunday morning like this until the half term break at the end of October. Her Sundays would be taking up with excess planning, marking and preparation for work.

Her phone buzzed and Yaz picked it up, fully expecting it to be another ridiculous meme from Ryan but, to her surprise it was from Clara.

**Clara: Morning sunshine! Hope you enjoyed your lie in, ready for tomorrow?**

**Yaz: Ready as I’ll ever be, just have to pick out what to wear!**

**Clara: How did you get on with the Doctor? Didn’t get to see you Friday.**

**Yaz: Put my foot in it. Why didn’t you tell me about her wheelchair?**

**Clara: Was going to but got interrupted. What difference does it make?**

**Yaz: Just said something idiotic and now she probably thinks I'm stupid.**

**Clara: Pretty sure she thinks we’re all stupid.**

**Yaz: What if I upset her?**

**Clara: Then apologise but can't imagine it was that bad.**

**Yaz: Going to sound really silly here, can I come eat lunch with you tomorrow?**

**Clara: Course, it’s a bit of a free-for-all in the staff room anyway, just sit wherever. See you then. Get a good night’s sleep!**

**Yaz: Thanks, see you tomorrow xx**

**Clara: xxx**

Yaz felt slightly better after texting Clara and peeled herself off the sofa to have a shower and get dressed at which point Ryan finally appeared. The pre back to school butterflies were fluttering around Yaz’s stomach and she kept the day low key, chatting to her Nani on the phone, hanging out with Ryan, playing with Pting, finding an outfit to wear the next day and making her lunch so it was ready. Every year she promised herself she would make her lunch the night before and every year her resolution lasted about a week. And was possibly renewed for another week in January if she was lucky. Satisfied that she was as ready as she was going to get, Yaz went to bed that night excited and looking forward to the challenge, determined that not even Juliette would spoil her first day back at work. 


	4. The Caged Polar Bear

Yaz was one of the first people to arrive, beaten only by the caretaker and one other car. Someone in KS2 she surmised when she got inside and the corridor where her own classroom was located was totally deserted. Even the lights were still off.

She let herself into her new room, flicked on the lights, switched on the laptop and board and stored her handbag in the shared Year One teacher cupboard, carefully choosing a shelf that was out of the kids reach. And out of Juliette’s she realised with a pang.

Yaz had a few start of year traditions, the first thing she did was draw a welcome message on the board for the children, then she went around the tables with a chalk pen, writing each child’s name directly onto the table for them which always made them excited and would hopefully distract them from their nerves. The thought of a teacher writing directly on the table! She put a book out on each table for the children to look at while they were coming in. She would probably have a few tears and a few anxious parents to deal with and it would keep the rest of them busy before she took the register and she was able to get their day started.

Satisfied that the classroom was completely ready, Yaz headed down to the staffroom. She was irrationally annoyed that Juliette was in her classroom but, again, hadn’t bothered to announce herself or say good morning.

There were a few other people there, mostly, like she was, making travel mugs of tea and coffee and Yaz spied a list pinned to the wall of how people liked their drinks. She debated whether or not to make Juliette her drink of choice as some sort of peace offering and eventually decided it couldn’t hurt so she lifted out a second mug, rummaging for a lid that fit and looked at the list.

“Is that right?” she asked a man who she was pretty sure was teaching in Year Four, gesturing to the list.

“Yeah why?”

“She takes five sugars! How on earth does she have any teeth left!”

The man laughed. “She needs the sugar to counteract the sourness,” he explained cockily, pulling a crude face. 

That rankled uncomfortably with Yaz. Juliette clearly wasn’t the most popular member of staff, but she didn’t deserve to be spoken about like that, especially to a new member of staff. Yaz elected to ignore the comment and instead made the tea, an unholy amount of sugar in her teacher partner’s and black for herself and carried them carefully down the corridor.

Juliette was sitting (obviously) sorting out a pile of blank exercise books and sorting them into drawers and Yaz knocked lightly on the door.

“Morning!” Yaz greeted cheerfully.

“Good morning Yasmin,” She greeted coolly.

“I made you tea,” Yaz explained, holding out the travel mug.

“I'm perfectly capable of making my own tea,” she frowned, a deep crease appearing in her forehead.

“I didn’t say you weren’t but I was there,” Yaz replied loudly, still holding the mug out, beginning to feel slightly foolish.

“Yasmin is there a particular reason you’re shouting at me slowly? I can assure you than I am neither hearing impaired nor do I have learning difficulties or a poor grasp of the English language.” Juliette’s voice was calm and quiet yet hard as nails.

Yaz blushed furiously.

“Just take the tea. Throw it down the sink if you don’t want it,” She said impatiently, desperate to escape the awkward social situation.

Juliette finally reached out and took the tea, eyeing it suspiciously.

“I didn’t poison it you know. It’s just tea with an absurd amount of sugar,” Yaz told her tartly, leaving the room before she said anything else.

In her own room she made an effort to calm down a little. How had the woman managed to make her so annoyed after only spending two minutes with her? She drank her tea and checked her emails, a copy of all the rotas that had been discussed the previous week was there. She and Juliette had copped the first break duty of the year apparently; they were on duty together every Monday and Wednesday together… perfect. Yaz forced herself to drink her tea and check the other emails. Assembly three times a week to remember, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday though thankfully not one that day to remember about and her first one is a celebration assembly that Friday though apparently Juliette would be supporting her as it was her first one. It felt like the universe was conspiring against her to make her work with Juliette as much as possible. There were staff meetings every Tuesday after school as well as a briefing every Monday morning, Year One planning time on a Wednesday... It was so much to remember and Yaz immediately pulled out her diary to write it all down; she knew there was no way she would remember it otherwise.

Yaz checked the classroom clock. 08:15. Time for briefing. She was irrationally annoyed that Juliette had gone without her though she wasn’t sure what else she was expected. She had made it very clear that she wasn’t the type to make sure the newbie knew what was going on.

The briefing was held in the staffroom and Yaz gratefully slipped into an empty seat beside Clara. Juliette was at a far table, a chair shoved out of her way behind her, pen in hand and studying her notebook seriously, ignoring her colleagues and allowing them to ignore her.

Yaz was just about to ask Clara to point out some of the other members of staff when Melissa Masters, the head, appeared and silence fell.

“Morning everyone!”

There were a few half-hearted greetings in response.

“Well, I hope you’re all going to be more enthusiastic when the kids arrive!” she retorted, a hint or sarcasm lacing her voice.

Melissa ran through a few start of term notices, all of which Yaz noted, had already been covered by the emails that had already been sent out that morning but somehow Missy made use of every one of the fifteen minutes that she had before releasing them, exactly five minutes before they were due on the playground to collect the children. Yaz made a last-minute visit to the loo before hurrying out, pausing only for a few steadying breaths.

The gates were opened and the children formed neat lines with their parents. Yaz was in between Juliette’s line and one of the Year Two classes but she ignored both of them, taking the opportunity to introduce herself to the parents and children for the first time, quite sure the other teachers were doing the same. Some of the children were excited and confident, others clinging anxiously to their parents and one little girl was crying. She caught Yaz’s eye instantly, Yaz knew her name was Lilly and her twin sister, Rosie, was in the other class; there had been serious concerns raised the year before about the twins home life. Right now, she stood out painfully in comparison to the other children in their neat and shiny uniforms while hers was old, ragged, stained, some items too small and others too big. She was standing clutching her sisters’ hand, the two girls hovering between the two lines uncertainly. Their dad who brought them to school standing with their younger brother in the line for the reception kids.

Before Yaz could go and introduce herself, the whistle blew, and the lines of older kids started to move automatically while the younger kids started hugging their parents and suddenly looking unsure. But Yaz could already see that Lilly and Rosie were probably going to need to separated. She and Doctor Smith started bringing their lines over to the communal year one cloakroom where the kids could go into their rooms, both women concentrating on making sure the kids were hanging up their bags and coats on the right pegs. The last two kids, unsurprisingly, were Lilly and Rosie who were clinging to each other tightly and crying.

“Hi sweetheart, I’m Miss Khan.” Yaz introduced. “Are you Lilly?”

The twin closest to her nodded. They were very similar though not identical.

Beside her Juliette was talking to Rosie.

But Yaz was aware that there was a classroom full of kids through the door that currently had no adult with them and unfortunately, she didn’t have time for the softly softly approach. Lilly and Rosie needed to go to their respective classrooms so they could settle.

“Come on sweetheart,” Yaz encouraged. “All your friends have missed you over the summer holidays, lets go and say hello.”

But Lilly refused to move even though Juliette had successfully taken Rosie into their classroom.

Yaz picked Lilly up, she stank, and carried her through to the classroom, taking her to her seat. Years of experience told her she would do much better without the extra attention and when she was distracted by the busy morning of activities but she spent a few moments with her, showing her the book on her table and asking the child sitting next to her to keep her company.

By breaktime Yaz was very quickly remembering just how exhausting teaching the little ones could be, especially so early in the school year. This group was already proving to be incredibly needy, demanding her constant attention and seemingly totally unable to complete even the simplest tasks without her constant support and encouragement. Added into that, she had three kids who didn’t speak a word of English and two kids who had severe behavioural problems… it felt like chaos had reigned supreme all morning and she was so relieved to line the kids up for playtime. Even though the kids weren’t going anywhere, and she wasn’t having a break from them, just being out of the room felt like respite as she released her charges into the wild of the playground, most of whom made a bee-line for the climbing frame, so Yaz decided to join them.

It wasn’t a huge frame, but the kids seemed to love it regardless. Yaz was keeping half an eye on them, the rest of her attention on the main playground. Juliette had followed with her own class just a few moments after Yaz had come out. As unpopular as she appeared to be with the staff, that clearly wasn’t the case with the kids, loads of whom had gone over to greet her excitedly, many with hugs. They were showing her their new haircuts, new gaps in their teeth, talking animatedly about their holidays. Her face was softer than Yaz had seen so far, she was clearly at home with the kids, patient and relaxed, talking animatedly. Sitting in her wheelchair, she was no taller than the children, indeed some of them were taller. Yaz noticed how she waved her hands a lot when she talked and that her left was more excitable, while her right, while not still, was less enthusiastic with its animations.

A few of the kids in Yaz’s class stuck close to her nervously while Lilly was clinging to her hand, but the majority were doing what all kids of their age did on the school playground, running around screaming and shouting as fast as they could. Yaz couldn’t help but feel irrationally jealous of the attention Juliette got from the kids, they clearly loved her and most of them already knew her.

It didn’t surprise Yaz in the slightest when Juliette blew her whistle to signify the end of the breaktime precisely on time. Her kids already seemed to be perfectly trained and were lining up in a neat, orderly line waiting to be taken inside and allowing Juliette to count them. Yaz’s kids… three were still playing on the climbing frame, and the ones that had made it over to where they were supposed to be lining up were laughing and chattering in a huddle rather than standing nicely.

Yaz went to tackle the kids on the climbing frame first. Unsurprisingly, two of the three were her two boys with behavioural problems, both of whom she knew from their notes had regularly refused to come off the playground the year before. The third quickly scarpered to where he was supposed to be as soon as he saw Yaz but the other two… Liam decided to run while Ashton carried on playing, ignoring her entirely. Yaz didn’t want to lose face, especially not with Juliette watching and on the large field Liam could evade her all day if he wanted. Even if she did catch him it wasn’t like she could force him inside.

Yaz could feel the pressure building. She was aware that the Reception and Year Two kids with whom they shared the playground had already gone back inside which at least gave her less of an audience. Juliette had corralled her unruly bunch into a neat line and they were waiting impatiently. But she was in no mood to see it as a helpful gesture, it felt more like Juliette assuming she couldn’t cope and intervening.

After a couple of minutes Yaz decided not to give the boys any more attention for their behaviour – Ashton was continuing to play while Liam was watching, ready to run if she started to give chase. Instead, she firmly turned her back on them, far from convinced it was the right decision and made her way over to her kids.

“Are you going to just leave them outside?” Juliette questioned. Her tone was cool, no question of providing support or sympathising with the difficult situation Yaz was now in.

“They’re five. Chances are they’ll get scared when we go in without us and follow. If they don’t, I’ll radio Melissa or the deputy. I have 28 other kids waiting for a lesson, we can’t stand out here all day.”

Yaz turned her back and walked away, hoping Juliette couldn’t see how she was shaking but to her relief, when she had the children back in the classroom at their tables, she noticed that Liam and Ashton had done as she had predicted. They had snuck in quietly when they were no longer receiving attention for their negative behaviour and had decided that being on the playground alone was both scary and not much fun.

Yaz’s morning didn’t get much better and by lunchtime she was desperate to escape the confines of her tiny, noisy classroom, but first she needed to get set up for their afternoon art project. A typical first day activity where each kid would be painting a self-portrait to put on display in the corridor. She headed into the store cupboard where Juliette was already working. She had lifted out enough paint trays for her own class and was filling them carefully with a range of skin tone coloured poster paints, paints for hair and eyes and bright, primary colours for their clothes.

“Where are the paint pallets kept?” Yaz asked, determined to at least be civil to the woman.

Juliette pointed to a cupboard next to her left leg which Yaz opened to find stuffed full of art supplies, a little kid’s dream – paint, glue, glitter, sequins, coloured paper and card, pom-poms, feathers… it looked well equipped but Yaz knew what was in there had to last 60 kids an entire year and wouldn’t go as far as they would like. As she pulled out the pallets, Yaz accidentally knocked into Juliette’s wheelchair and she looked up anxiously, just in time to see a brief flash of pain on Juliette’s face and a slight hesitation in her hands.

“I’m sorry, are you alright?” Yaz apologized quickly.

But Juliette had already rearranged her face back to its usual haughty expression. “I’m fine.” She replied shortly, leaving no room for further discussion.

Juliette squirted the last of her paint into her pallets and balanced one carefully on her lap. Yaz watched as she deftly maneuvered her wheels, easily making her way out of the small cupboard and disappearing. She could apparently only manage one pallet on her lap at a time while Yaz easily carried four, two in each hand. Although Juliette had started first, it was a slow process for her to take everything through to her room and Yaz finished more quickly. Deciding to make one more effort to be friendly, Yaz picked up her last three pallets and the sheets of A3 paper she had left out, carrying them through to Juliette’s classroom. She noticed the mug of tea she had made that morning on Juliette’s already chaotic desk and briefly wondered if the woman had drunk it.

“Where do you need these?” she asked Juliette who was filling water pots from the sink at the back of her classroom.

“I don’t need anyone to help me Yasmin. I’m perfectly able to sort things in my own classroom.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t.” Yaz retorted mildly. “But I’ve always helped my teaching partners in the same way they’ve always helped me, means we both get a better lunch break.”

Juliette stared at her for a moment, almost suspiciously, as though the thought of them being part of a team or helping each other had never occurred to her before but she indicated a table where she needed the paints to go without protesting further and took the paper off Yaz, leaving it on her own desk.

“Are you coming to the staff room for lunch?” Yaz asked, emboldened by Juliette not giving her another telling off.

“I don’t go to the staff room. Excuse me, I must go to the bathroom.” She turned around to leave the room.

Yaz remembered her musings from the weekend. “Do you need help?” she blurted out, blushing crimson.

Juliette stared at her for a moment, her jaw dropping slightly.

“I don’t know how you go to the toilet Yasmin but as an adult I tend to find that it’s a solo activity,” She replied cuttingly and disappeared so quickly it was like she had teleported.

Yaz groaned loudly. Perfect.

_Why had she asked?_

Yaz double checked that she had everything set up for the afternoon before she fled to the staffroom, desperate for some respite. Clara was already there sitting at a table with one other member of staff Yaz didn’t know and she gratefully sank into the empty seat beside her.

“Are you alright?” Clara asked sympathetically.

“Long morning already,” Yaz groaned.

“You have Ashton don’t you? I have his older brother. He’s absconded from the classroom three times already this morning,” Clara complained, rolling her eyes.

“Is it always like this here?”

“Pretty much!” Clara announced cheerfully. “You’re gonna love it, never a dull moment!.. This is Jack Harkness by the way, he’s our sports coach, he’ll teach one of your PE slots every week though you have to teach the other one… makes the kids call him Captain.”

“They love it!” Jack protested. He seemed to be easy going with a relaxed American accent.

“How’s Juliette?” Clara asked quietly, leaning closer so no one beyond their table could hear them.

“She hates me,” Yaz moaned. “Every time I open my mouth it’s like I’ve personally offended her.”

“She’s like that with everyone.” Clara reassured her.

“Not with me” Jack argued.

“Bet you two make a right pair, the Doctor and the Captain.” Yaz smiled. “Do you teach all of her PE sessions?”

“No, why would I?” Jack asked. “Just one like everyone else.”

“Oh… I just assumed… because of her…” Yaz trailed off, embarrassed.

“Trust me Yaz, never assume that Juliette ever has any special treatment because she’s in a wheelchair, definitely the way to piss her off even more and none of us want that. She does everything the rest of us do. And she might have the social skills of a caged polar bear with the rest of us but she’s a good teacher.”

“She’s awful,” wailed Yaz to Ryan that night, relaying her day to him. It hadn’t gotten any better. In fact it had gotten distinctly worse. Painting had been disastrous and Yaz had ended up covered in it. Her kids had been a nightmare and at one point Juliette had felt the need to come in to ask the kids to shut up. And of course, they had all listened to her, sitting quietly in their seats for all of three minutes before the noise had crept up.

Instead of being supportive about it at the end of the day, Juliette had made a scathing comment about Yaz’s behaviour management skills. Yaz had managed to make it through to the end of the day but as soon as she had gotten home, she had collapsed onto the sofa and cried. She’d never had a first day in teaching like it.

Ryan had already been home from work, it had taken Yaz longer to set up for the next day than she had expected, and as soon as he had seen how upset she was he had sat on the sofa with her, wrapping her tightly in his arms for a hug.

“I think this was a mistake Ryan. I used to be really good at behaviour management. I think I’ve lost all my teaching skills. Maybe I should hand in my notice and do something else. I could be a lifeguard again? Or work in a shop?”

“Yaz you love teaching. You’ve been so excited about this job ever since you’ve got hired.”

“I’ve been out too long Ryan, it’s like I’ve lost my mojo or something.”

“You’ve been out two and a half years Yaz, people take much longer career breaks than that.”

“I don’t think I can do it,” Yaz whispered. “I don’t even know if I want to.”

“You do want to Yaz. It’s your first day. Ignore the Ice Queen, stay out of her way as much as possible and you’ll win the kids around. This is what you do. Stay firm with them. I know you’ve got this.”

Yaz sniffed. “Thanks Ryan.”

“Hey, I’ve got something that might cheer you up. Nan invited us for dinner this weekend if you fancy it?”

Yaz looked up, already feeling more interested. “Seriously?”

A dinner with Grace O’Brien and her husband with Graham was the ultimate treat. She was an incredible cook who could make the most basic of things taste like you were in a 5 star restaurant. And she was one of the few people Yaz knew who didn’t make a big deal about her dietary requirements and just cooked something she could eat. Of course, she was a nurse so maybe that was why but either way, Yaz appreciated it.

But it wasn’t just the food. The O’Brien house was warm and cosy and welcoming to anyone who needed it to be. Grace was one of those rare people that just exuded warmth, she was unfailingly kind, no-nonsense and always there with a cuppa and a listening ear. Yaz had spent a lot of time there as a teenager and when Grace had remarried and moved away she had been devastated, losing her best friend and substitute Grandma in one go. It was part of the reason she had chosen this town when she had finally moved away from her parents a few months ago, because she knew Grace and Ryan would always be there for her. She didn’t know Grace’s husband Graham particularly well, he was a former bus driver but had had to take early retirement after a cancer diagnosis, but he seemed like a nice man even if Ryan wasn’t overly keen on him.

When she got home on Tuesday night, Yaz was feeling slightly more positive about things. She had managed to avoid Juliette for the majority of the day which was helpful. But on Wednesday, she knew she wouldn’t be so lucky. They had their planning session that afternoon. All teachers got one morning or afternoon out per week for _Planning, Preparation and Assessment,_ or PPA. And it would be just her and Juliette in the small PPA room all afternoon, forced to work together to plan the next weeks’ worth of learning and create all the necessary resources. Yaz was dreading it.

All morning Ashton and Liam pushed her buttons. Liam was like a toddler, having a temper tantrum and mewling like a kitten every time he was asked to work. He was a very clever boy but also stubborn. Ashton responded with anger, he had already thrown his chair across the classroom when Yaz had asked him to write his name on his work, a feat he was perfectly capable of.

Yaz wasn’t sure which was worse. Spending the afternoon in the classroom with its… characters or shut in a room with Juliette. It was like being asked to choose between swimming in the shark tank or walking in the lion’s cage.

In fact, the only saving grace in her first few days had been having lunch with Clara and Jack in the staff room. As soon as she had set up her afternoon, she headed to the staff room for a half hour of respite. It was reassuring to know that it wasn’t only her kids that were causing problems and helpful to let off some steam and get tips from other members of staff, especially the teacher who had taught her class the previous year.

But of course, lunchtime could only last so long and so, with twenty minutes to spare Yaz reluctantly excused herself to collect her laptop and notes. Overall, she was apprehensive about the afternoon, but she was also anxious to be there before Juliette for a reason she wasn’t quite sure of.

But of course, Juliette was there first. She had shoved one of the chairs out of her way and was already typing away on her laptop. She had notes beside her written in impeccable, swirling calligraphy and was helping herself to a packet of biscuits. She didn’t acknowledge Yaz’s presence until Yaz had sat down, opened her own laptop and lifted out her things ready to start.

“I’ve done the homework and started maths planning. You can do literacy and phonics.” She announced coolly without even looking up.

Yaz bit back a retort. She preferred planning literacy anyway but also, Juliette wasn’t in charge, this was supposed to be an equal partnership.

Instead of getting annoyed, she took a calming breath and dug out the book their first three weeks of literacy was based on, there were some exciting and entertaining lessons and Yaz hoped Juliette would be able to embrace that, she certainly didn’t look like the sort of person who was able to relax and have fun.

The atmosphere felt thick and tense, Yaz was conscious of every clack of her keyboard, the noise of every click of her mouse, every pause. She had never felt so judged and scrutinized and yet not once did Juliette look up and acknowledge her presence, she worked silently apart from her own keyboard clicking softly and the scratching of her pen as she made notes for herself in a hardback journal and a diary. And the quiet munching of biscuits, Yaz didn’t think she’d ever seen someone eat so many biscuits and yet the sugar didn’t seem to be affecting her.

When Juliette disappeared without a word after an hour or so Yaz breathed a sigh of relief. Juliette’s cool, calm, icy demeanor was intimidating. Yaz had always looked forward to PPA before, a time not to relax as such because there was a lot to get through, but it was a time to speak with colleagues, it was less pressure than the classroom and usually involved plenty of camaraderie, chat and support in what was quite an isolating profession. Yaz wasn’t sure she could take planning sessions like this all year.

Unfortunately her thoughts were interrupted by Juliette reappearing. She had clearly been to the printer and balanced on her lap was a large stack of papers for use the next week. She stopped beside Yaz and started rifling through the paperwork on her lap, separating it into piles.

“This is everything you need for maths next week. Planning is on the staff drive,” She explained shortly before moving back to where she had been working and starting to sort her own pile of paperwork into a large accordion folder.

Yaz had to admit she was pleasantly surprised that Juliette had bothered to print everything for both classes instead of just her own. Sure, she had used no extraneous words but she hadn’t been rude either. Her accent reminded Yaz strongly of home and she wondered where exactly the other woman had grown up and what had caused her to move so far from Sheffield.

As she expected, half past three when the kids were able to go home came and went but she and Juliette kept working, ploughing through a torturous to do list in oppressive silence and it was a blessed relief when she was finished shortly before six. Juliette seemed to be finished too, she packed her laptop, notebook and custard creams into a laptop bag she hung on the back of her wheelchair and balanced her accordion folder on her lap. She then headed down to her classroom, leaving Yaz behind without so much as a goodbye.

Yaz rolled her eyes and gathered up her own things, relieved that she had got through the afternoon without being shouted at or belittled. As uncomfortable as the awkward silence was, it was definitely preferable to that. She slowly gathered her own things to take down to her classroom, hoping to have given Juliette enough time to have left the building without having to see her again.

But. of course, she didn’t. Instead, she emerged from her classroom to go home at precisely the same moment that Juliette had emerged from hers leaving them with no choice but to walk down the corridor (had it always been so long?) together. Yaz felt increasingly uncomfortable and she fiddled anxiously with the strap of her tote bag, searching desperately for something to say to ease the tension. She chanced a glance down at Juliette’s face, it was neutral and unruffled like it always seemed to be as she rolled smoothly down the corridor towards the door.

The heavy fire door was security locked and Yaz unlocked it with her new badge she had received that morning, holding it open for Juliette who didn’t acknowledge the gesture. They both signed out on the electronic registration system before exiting to the carpark.

“See you tomorrow?” Yaz offered weakly, feeling like she couldn’t walk away without saying anything.

Juliette looked at her in surprise. “Goodnight,” she offered curtly, heading off in the opposite direction to Yaz.


	5. Putting Both Feet In

By Friday lunchtime, Yaz was beyond ready for the weekend. Her head felt like it was splitting in two and she was _so_ tired she could cry. The start of term was always hard but this time, settling into a new school and routine, especially after such a long break, dealing with such difficult kids, dealing with Juliette… she was desperate for the weekend. But between now and then was her assembly with Juliette, a science lesson, a pile of marking and a display that needed to be put up in the corridor of all the Year One portraits and writing they had done about themselves.

Instead of spending her lunchtime with Clara like she usually did, Yaz shut the door of her classroom, downed two painkillers and a pint of water in an attempt to bring her raging headache under control. It worked to an extent, at least by the time she went to collect her kids from the playground she was feeling like she could think straight.

True to form, Ashton and Liam refused to come inside from the playground but despite Juliette’s opinions, Yaz elected to ignore their behaviour and brought the rest of the children inside; but she was thoroughly relieved when the two boys decided to follow after all.

Somehow, and Yaz wasn’t entirely sure how, she managed to make it through the science lesson. The lesson was on floating and sinking and the kids were split into groups with piles of objects to test. The activity was noisy and messy and the sort of thing every teacher dreaded on a Friday afternoon even if the kids were loving it. The cleaning staff Yaz knew, would be less enamoured at the sheer amount of water slopped across her floor. On the other hand, at least it was _only_ water. They were supposed to be doing the activity outside but the playground grass was being cut and even inside the noise of the mowers were distracting the kids. It was a huge relief when at half past two she was able to call time on the lesson, tidy the classroom as best she could without a mop and line her children up for assembly.

Yaz checked she had both her laptop and the certificates that had been delivered to her that morning for the celebration assembly; a time when all the children’s achievements from the week. It would presumably be very similar to what she remembered from her own primary school days and teaching in other schools. Yaz had felt slightly insulted that she had been put on the schedule to do the assembly with Juliette, no one else was sharing, but Clara had reassured her that all new staff shared their first assembly and she should use the opportunity to introduce herself to the kids who hadn’t met her yet so she had looked past it… but did it really have to be Juliette?

There were a couple of classes already in the hall when Yaz arrived and she guided her kids to their place, shushing them as they insisted on talking. When they were settled, Yaz nervously went to the front. She knew that assembly was usually conducted from the stage, but Juliette was sitting at the front rather than being on it so she joined her as the last class trooped in.

Yaz was worried Juliette might try and take over, she felt the need to jump in before she could and cheerfully announced “Good afternoon everybody!”, pretending to feel far more energetic than she actually did.

“Good afternoon Miss Khan! Good afternoon everybody!” the children chanted obediently.

“Congratulations on almost finishing your first week back at school. Now before I got to come here and be your teacher, I was a teacher in another school and before we do our certificates I thought I would teach you one of our favourite songs, I bet some of you already know it, everybody stand up for me!”

The children stood up, keeping to their lines pretty well as Yaz put on the Wake Up Shake Up song, noticing how Juliette moved slightly to one side as the song blasted to life on the projector. The kids clearly knew it, joining in enthusiastically but Yaz’s face drained of colour.

_Wake up, wake up, give yourself a shake up!_

_Get your body moving!_

_Reach up, jump up, give your friends a thumbs up!_

_It’s another new day!_

Shit! How could she have been so insensitive? Juliette was going to hate her even more than she already did. There she was standing… sitting at the front where everyone could come and see her and a song all about jumping and dancing when she couldn’t do either…

_Get you feet, dancing to the beat!_

_Get your body moving!_

God, she’d forgotten about that bit. The kids were all balancing on one leg and Yaz felt sick. She chanced a glance over as she reluctantly joined in, Juliette was wiggling her hands instead. Her face was as impassive as ever, but Yaz doubted very much that if she was humiliated or upset that she would show it.

The kids on the video started doing lunges and jogging on the spot and Yaz blushed, doing her best to join in. She debated turning the song off but decided that that would probably cause even more attention to the situation. Instead, she stared resolutely at the back of the hall, going through the motions, just desperate for the song to end.

Yaz wasn’t sure how she got herself through the assembly while maintaining a normal tone of voice. Juliette was beside her, handing her the certificates and quietly prompting her on some of the names she couldn’t pronounce. Somehow, she made it through and managed read a story to her own class before dismissing them but she knew she had to go and apologise to Juliette.

She couldn’t even take the coward’s way out and avoid her (much as she wanted to) because they had that display to get up in the corridor. Typical.

Bracing herself, Yaz stood up and went to Juliette’s room, knocking lightly on the open door. Juliette was moving around her room, gathering stacks of paintings, backing paper, glue, scissors, wall stapler, staple remover and a guillotine and creating a large pile on one of the kids desks. She barely looked at Yaz before speaking to her.

“Do you have everything ready for the wall?” she asked bluntly. Straight to the point as always.

“Wha…” Yaz started, thrown slightly. She cleared her throat and started again. “Yeah I have… Juliette I owe you an apology,” she finally got out.

Juliette actually stopped what she was doing and looked at Yaz properly, one eyebrow quirked.

“I… in assembly, I shouldn’t have put that song on, I didn’t think. I'm sorry.”

Juliette stared at her for a moment, her expression unreadable.

“Why are you apologising?”

“Well, I… because… I,” Yaz stuttered. Was Juliette really going to make her spell it out? “because you’re in a wheelchair and we were all dancing and jumping,” Yaz finally said in a rush.

Juliette leaned back in her chair slightly, watching Yaz closely. Yaz’s throat felt dry and she was suddenly very conscious of how much taller she was, standing over her like this.

“Don’t,” she said sharply.

_Don’t? What the hell did that mean? Don’t apologise? Don’t make a big deal out of this? Don’t come near me?_

“I… uh… sorry?” Yaz asked, trying to clarify. What was it with this woman that always made her so unsure about everything? It was like half her brain fell out and landed in a puddle on the floor every time she had to speak to her.

“Just stop apologising to me! Go and get your stuff, I don’t want to be here all night thank you.” She pushed forward, forcing Yaz to jump out of her way, moving out to the corridor with a stack of artwork in her lap.

Yaz resisted the temptation to let out a groan. She was just so… infuriating!

She went back to her own classroom, gathering up the kids work from her own class as well as her stapler, staple remover and the bin. By the time she made it out to the corridor, Juliette was already working at a bench out there, trimming the kids paintings and backing them onto simple, black mounts ready to staple to the board. With her wheelchair drawn up sideways, she didn’t look very comfortable.

“Shall I print off some lettering?” Yaz offered.

“It’s already done, table behind you,” Juliette replied, concentrating on sticking the picture to it’s mount and not looking up. “Put your work there and I’ll pull out the best ones for the display.”

Of course it was. Yaz looked behind her and saw the lettering she was referring to, bright, colourful, rainbow striped with a bold black outline that proclaimed _Welcome to Year One!_ proudly.

“I’ll start taking down last year’s work then,” Yaz muttered, already feeling slightly redundant, Juliette clearly had a vision of what was going on the board that didn’t require Yaz’s input. She could argue with her but what would be the point? Just a few more hours and she could go home.

They worked in silence, Yaz methodically pulling out each staple from the plain, hessian background that adorned every board in the school with its simple, black border. When she was done, she lifted Juliette’s neatly cut out pile of letters and her stapler when Juliette finally spoke.

“You should blu-tac that up first,” she advised.

“I have put up a display before thank you. I’ve been teaching for quite a while,” Yaz replied, matching her cool tone.

“Suit yourself but Missy will come round with a spirit level and a ruler to check your spacing and that they’re in a straight line and _I_ won’t be pulling them down again.”

Yaz watched her for a moment, trying to decide if she was joking or not. She decided not. Juliette didn’t look like she know a joke if it bit her on the ass. And from what she had seen of Missy so far, she was slightly psychotic and may well be the sort of head who went around doing things like that. Swallowing her pride, Yaz went into her room and got the blu-tac and her metre stick and spent what felt like an unreasonable amount of time carefully spacing out the letters and ensuring they were spread out precisely across the board.

Just as she finished, Juliette appeared behind her, a large stack of artwork and profiles written in large, childish letters balanced carefully on her legs which she shifted into a pile on the bin instead. 

She appeared to be agitated, she was jiggling her right leg and Yaz tried not to stare, she had assumed Juliette couldn’t move her legs but apparently, she had been wrong, and she felt guilty for assuming. Once again, she idly found herself wondering why Juliette was in a wheelchair but knew she would never ask. She couldn’t even imagine asking Juliette the time, let alone a personal question. Besides, she probably didn’t like talking about it. But Yaz did resolve to ask Grace over the weekend, as a nurse maybe she would have some insight.

The display took longer than she had anticipated, she always forgot how long stuff like that took, and Yaz was less than impressed as she lugged all her maths and literacy books plus her laptop up the four flights of stairs to the flat she shared with Ryan.

“Yaz! You shouldn’t be carrying heavy stuff up the stairs like that!” Ryan gasped, bounding off the sofa to relieve her of her burden.

“It’s fine Ryan.”

“No it isn’t. You only had your last surgery three months ago!” he scolded. “Me nan would kill me if she knew I’d let you lift that.”

“You didn’t _let_ me Ryan. You didn’t even know. I'm quite capable of managing myself you know,” she scowled, feeling chastised.

“Hey, you okay?” Ryan asked, his face softening to one of concern.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to bite your head off. Just been a really tough week.”

“It’s fine, need a night off?”

“Need to work,” Yaz complained, gesturing to the pile on the table.

“Then you definitely need a night off!” Ryan said. “Go get changed and I’ll sort food.”

“I don’t have time Ryan!” Yaz insisted irritably.

“Yaz, you’re one week in and you’re already killing yourself with work. Take the night off. If you need to work for an hour tomorrow, then I’ll support you but you’re taking tonight and Sunday off so you can come to Nan’s with me.”

“I don’t…” Yaz started to argue but Ryan could see she was wavering and he lifted out his phone.

“I’m ordering food. Better hurry up!” he warned her.

Yaz smiled slightly, he was always looking out for her. The big brother she’d never had, and she was certainly closer to him than she was to her sister.

By the time Yaz made it back down to the living room, Ryan had shifted her boxes of books for her to the kitchen table where she would be able to work the next day and ordered a selection of Greek food from their favourite restaurant for delivery.

“Your choice for the movie tonight,” Ryan announced, chucking the remote at her as soon as she sat down.

Yaz had changed into her favourite sweats and an old charity t-shirt that was so big it almost reached down to her knees. She curled up, her feet tucked under her as she flicked through their shared subscriptions for Netflix and Amazon Prime.

“What ya thinking?” Ryan asked. “Not Legally Blonde again?”

“Nah,” Yaz grinned, “I already subjected you to it once. Besides I'm not in the mood. Think I need something a bit darker tonight, that okay with you?”

“As long as its not horror…”

Yaz snorted. “Wuss.”

“And proud of it!” Ryan laughed cockily.

Yaz finished flicking, finally settling on some sort of detective drama called _The Bone Collector_ just as the doorbell rang and Ryan went to get them food, spreading out plates of miniature stuffed peppers, souvlaki, olives, pitta bread, dips, rice and marinated chicken. It smelled incredible and for a minute there was silence as they plated their food, stuffing pittas with the other dishes and sampling their favourites before Yaz pressed play.

“Oh I’ve read this!” Ryan said excitedly, “it was a good book.”

“Any good?”

“Interesting choice considering.” Was all Ryan said.

“Interesting how?”

“You’ll see, just watch. Heard it’s not as good as the book though.”

“Film adaptations never are,” Yaz agreed.

They stopped talking as the scene opened, it was slightly gruesome from the offset, exactly what Yaz had been looking for - a distraction from her life as Miss Khan who smiled a lot and wore dresses with kid friendly prints and talked through puppets and had (almost) unending patience. It wasn’t a false persona as such, but definitely a modified one.

It didn’t take long for Yaz to realise what Ryan had meant when he said it had been an ‘interesting choice’. One of the main characters, a detective, had broken his neck and was paralysed throughout his body. He was bed bound for most of the film though at the end he was in a very fancy electric wheelchair that he controlled with his mouth. He was different to Juliette though, he couldn’t move his arms or legs at all.

As she got ready for bed Yaz couldn’t stop thinking about the detective in the film and Juliette. Juliette could move her legs, Yaz had seen it, could she walk? The detective had a full-time carer who had to do everything for him like wash him, dress him and take him to the toilet and even feed him… did Juliette need that? Well, Yaz knew she could feed herself, her arms seemed to work fine, even though she waved her right around less than her left when she talked, but did someone have to make her lunch for her to take to work everyday? Make her dinner and breakfast? Did she still live with her parents or did she have a carer? Her life must be so sad, constantly relying on other people for help and to do things for her. Did she drive herself to and from work? Probably not. Yaz flushed as she wondered if she should have offered Juliette a lift. Not that she particularly wanted to, but it felt like the right thing to do. Did she ever get out of her wheelchair? Did she wash in it? Sleep in it? Surely not, Yaz had seen her legs move, she must be able to stand in the shower or walk to her bed? Or if not, maybe someone had to carry her? The guy in the film had had someone lift him and Juliette was a lot smaller than he was. She had a sudden mental image of someone picking Juliette up bridal style and carrying her to bed. Yaz resolved to try and be more patient with her, she couldn’t even imagine how hard and how _limited_ her life must be. It was all very sad.

Yaz groaned loudly into her pillow. She couldn’t get that infernal woman out of her head!

On Saturday morning Yaz was still groaning as she realised just how colossal the pile of work she had to do was. Before Ryan was even up, she was settled at the kitchen table, a bowl of peanuts and dried fruit in front of her to snack on and sixty books that needed two to three worksheets stuck in each plus marking from the week that had just finished/

Her teacher stationery supply was well stocked seeing as it was September so at the very least she wasn’t scrabbling around looking for glue sticks or purple pens, the schools preferred colour for marking.

The sticking and marking took Yaz until nearly lunchtime on her own. Part of her wanted to text Juliette and see if she was working too but she didn’t have a phone number for her and even if she did, she knew she probably wouldn’t be bold enough anyway. Juliette seemed to be one of those teachers who always seemed to be up to date anyway. It was annoying.

Finally, Yaz was able to put her last book away in the box. She allowed herself a short stop to eat leftovers from the night before she was working again, this time typing away on her laptop and sorting out the phonics groups for the whole key stage. She ended up with the entire table littered in the children’s assessments that they had all completed that week, the results weren’t promising and Yaz was surprised at just how poor some of them were, children of seven who barely knew their alphabet or couldn’t read a single word. Very different to what she remembered from her previous school. Less than 10% of the children were where they should be. And as head of phonics, it was her direct responsibility to do something about it though what she didn’t know.

“Yaz… mate?” Ryan appeared from nowhere and sat down beside her, usurping Pting from his seat.

“Hmmm?” asked Yaz, not actually looking up from her laptop.

“Yaz, you need to stop now.”

“I'm not finished,” Yaz muttered distractedly.

“Yaz,” Ryan said more firmly. “You thought about work all last night instead of watching the movie. You’ve been working all day, you need to stop now.”

“It’s fine.”

“No it isn’t. You need to put boundaries in place. Do something you enjoy. Your weekend is for you, not for work.”

“It needs to be done Ryan,” Yaz argued tiredly.

“I'm not saying it doesn’t Yaz but it’s important you look after yourself too. You’re going to make yourself ill if you work every weekend.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It _does_ matter. Why don’t you go to the gym or the pool? You haven’t done either outside of physio for ages and you love working out.”

Yaz hesitated. It actually sounded really tempting. Ryan watched her waver.

“Come on Yaz,” he encouraged. “Go out for a bit and I’ll make sure Nan sends us home with leftovers tomorrow.”

Yaz laughed at that one. “No one leaves Grace O’Brien’s house without leftovers ever.”

“True… fine if you don’t go, I’m keeping all the leftovers to myself,” Ryan threatened.

“You wouldn’t!” Yaz pretended to gasp in horror.

Ryan stared at her with a very serious expression on his face.

“Okay… I’ll go,” Yaz agreed finally. It would be nice to stop. She finished the list she was working on and shut down her laptop, nestling it carefully on top of the piles of kids books and then added the paperwork on top.

“You going to the gym or swimming?” Ryan asked.

“Pool I think, it’s been ages and at this rate I’ll be needing a new job, could always go back to lifeguarding.”

“You won’t be needing a new job Yaz. Let Juliette be a bitch, just ignore her. You don’t need her to do well or be the amazing teacher I know you are.”

For Yaz, arriving at the swimming pool always felt a bit like coming home in a weird kind of way. The smell of the chlorine brought back memories of swimming championships when she was at school, lifeguarding as a teenager and student, bonding with her dad who had taught her to swim. On impulse, and to make sure she came again, Yaz bought ten sessions in one go and carefully tucked them into her purse before heading off to find the changing rooms.

Apart from her splash in the sea the other day, Yaz realised she hadn’t been swimming since everything had happened which was sad. She loved swimming and this pool was a good one with Olympic sized lanes and nice changing rooms, there were even private showers.

Sandals slapping the puddles on the tiles Yaz found an empty changing room and slipped into her swimming costume, a plain black number with pink stripes over her hips. She plaited her hair tightly, coiled it into a bun which she covered with a swim cap and added goggles over the top before scooping everything into her swim bag which she dumped in a locker.

Even though she had never been to this pool before, stepping out to the waters edge was incredibly familiar and she allowed the smells and sights to transport her back in time briefly. She stretched and warmed up for a few moments on the poolside, rolling her shoulders, stretching her calves and flexing her ankles. The pool was divided into lanes that weren’t busy and Yaz decided to literally jump, well dive, straight back in at the deep end. It might have been a while but her body remembered what to do and she completed a graceful dive into the section marked ‘2.5m’, and started her swim underwater, staying there for almost a third of the length of the pool before breaking back over the surface and swimming the rest of the way freestyle. When she reached the end of the pool, she kicked off from the end hard and went straight back again.

She had forgotten how incredible it felt to be in the water. How freeing it was, how easy it was to move, and she enthusiastically pushed herself into a third length, wondering why she had let it go so long. She could have been swimming before, she just hadn’t wanted to.

After ten lengths Yaz switched to breaststroke followed by ten lengths of butterfly and ten of backstroke. Before, she had done twenty of each usually finished by a further twenty of freestyle to finish off but after nearly two years she wisely decided not to push it. Her body would likely be complaining in the morning anyway.

Feeling her muscles burning Yaz easily hoisted herself out of the pool but was stopped on her way by a woman, a few years younger than herself.

“Hi! I’m Rose,” she introduced herself, offering Yaz her hand.

“Yaz.”

“Sorry, you don’t normally swim here do you?” Rose asked.

“No, haven’t been swimming in a few years and this is my first time at this pool,” Yaz explained, slightly out of breath.

“I was watching you swim, you’re good.”

“Umm… thanks,” Yaz offered, unsure where the conversation was going. Rose seemed friendly enough but even so…

“Sorry, I'm probably coming across as a bit creepy right now.” Rose laughed. “I run a ladies swim club here every Thursday night and was wondering if you’d be interested? It’s nothing overly serious, some of our ladies do do competitions, but others are just there for friends and fitness,” she explained.

“Oh,” Yaz said, surprised. It wasn’t what she had been expecting. “I did competitions when I were a kid but haven’t for a long time.”

“You don’t have to do them or anything. We normally start with a water aerobics style warm up then split into groups, the competition group and then two groups done more by general ability before we all come back to the end and finish off with an aerobics style cool down. Usually end up down the pub at the end too, it’s about the only place still open though loads of us don’t actually drink. What do you say?”

Yaz dithered. Joining clubs hadn’t even occurred to her. She was still wary of meeting new people and this sounded like it might be a bit full on. But on the other hand, she was supposed to be starting again and with that came new friendships…

“Yeah, why not.” She agreed despite herself.

“Fantastic” Rose grinned. “We meet at six, on Thursday, if you’re nervous I can meet you outside at quarter to?”

“Actually, that would help, thanks,” Yaz admitted shyly.

“No problem. As I said, there’s a flyer in the lobby, it has my phone number on it. Take it down and drop me a text with your name on later.”

“I will, thanks.” Yaz said, walking away with a sudden spring in her step.

Walking into the O’Brien house was like being enveloped in a warm hug. Grace was one of those people who exuded warmth and kindness and Yaz hugged her tightly, feeling safe and relaxed in her embrace. Behind her she could see Graham in his armchair, he had recently finished chemo and was still puffy from the steroids and mostly bald. He looked exhausted but smiled kindly when they arrived, greeting them enthusiastically.

Yaz and Ryan had arrived a little later than expected so dinner was pretty much ready when they arrived, a chicken and root vegetable medley which looked and smelled incredible. Yaz and Ryan set the table and served dinner and Yaz watched out of the corner of her eye as Grace helped Graham out of his seat and to the table.

“How’s the new job love?” Grace asked Yaz as she served some dinner onto Graham’s plate and tried to persuade him to eat it.

“It’s okay…” Yaz told her, non-committedly.

“She’s worked at home every night this week and all day yesterday!” Ryan interrupted.

Yaz shot him a furious look. Traitor.

“Yaz love, you need to look after yourself,” Grace admonished.

“I’m fine Grace.”

She could feel Grace scrutinising her.

“You look tired love.”

“I’m fine. I’m sure it’s just settling into the new job. Once I'm into the swing of it things will calm down,” Yaz protested, more confidently than she felt.

“Hmm,” Grace hummed, still watching Yaz carefully and Yaz was aware that Grace was watching her to make sure she ate.

When they finished eating Ryan sat with Graham to watch a gameshow and Yaz went to help Grace in the kitchen with the dishes.

“How are you love, really?” Grace asked, drying one of the plates.

Yaz sighed. Her normal reaction to questions about her health was to say she was fine and swiftly move on. But she couldn’t lie to Grace.

“Had a bit of an upset last weekend… and a panic attack,” she admitted quietly.

“And now?”

“I went swimming for the first time last night,” Yaz admitted with a smile. “And I met a girl there called Rose, she asked me to join their ladies swim club.”

“That’s great Yaz! Well done! I’m really proud of you.”

“There’s no reason why I can't do that is there?”

“Course not love, you’re three months post-surgery, you can do pretty much anything you want to within reason. But Ryan’s right, lugging heavy boxes up all those stairs probably wasn’t a good idea just yet. Give it another few weeks.”

Yaz nodded. She knew that anyway, but it was nice to get it confirmed from someone like Grace who she trusted and who knew what she was talking about.

Silence fell for a few minutes as the two women worked side by side.

“Grace…” asked Yaz eventually. “Why do some people use wheelchairs?”

Grace looked at her, an unreadable expression on her face. “Lots of different reasons, why?”

“My new colleague Juliette, she’s confined to a wheelchair and I were just wondering why.”

“Well first off I wouldn’t say ‘confined to a wheelchair’, she’d probably consider it highly offensive. Most people who use wheelchairs consider them freeing, if she didn’t have it, she might be stuck in bed all the time but with it she can clearly work and do what she needs to do.”

“So she can't walk?”

“Not necessarily, it depends on why she is in a wheelchair in the first place. She might have cerebral palsy or a spinal cord injury or a degenerative condition or something that means she’s in pain when she walks and a wheelchair helps with that.”

“She’s not paralysed.” Yaz said slowly. “I’ve seen her move her legs.”

“Just because she can move them doesn’t mean she can walk.” Grace said fairly. “She might have some movement but not be strong enough to walk or in too much pain or they could be involuntary muscle spasms or she might be able to walk but has a condition that means it’s very tiring for her. Does it matter?”

“No… I suppose I was just wondering if I'm supposed to be helping her or something. I mean she probably lives with her parents still, right? Or a carer?”

“Not necessarily. She might need help with some things, again it depends on the reason she’s in a wheelchair in the first place and the severity of the reason but don’t see the wheelchair and assume she’s helpless.”

“She’s awful.” Yaz whispered. “I know that’s terrible of me to say, but I can't stand her.”

“Why is it terrible of you to say? You don’t need to get on with everyone you meet.”

“Well, she’s in a wheelchair!”

“Doesn’t make her an inherently good person Yaz. I mean, she teaches little kids, she’s probably not a terrible person but that doesn’t mean you two have to be best friends.”

“I suppose.”

“And Yaz, if she needs help with something, she’ll probably ask for it. Just treat her the same as everyone else and expect the same off her you would expect from any colleague. If she comes across something she can't do either because of her disability or for any other reason I'm sure she’ll tell you, just like I hope you would tell her.”

“Yeah…” Yaz agreed quietly knowing there was no way she would ever talk to Juliette of all people about her health problems.

At that moment Ryan interrupted them, walking into the kitchen to make the tea. “Not talking about Juliette again are you Yaz?” he teased.

Yaz blushed and Ryan laughed at her response.

“God, I think you have a thing for her, can’t imagine any other reason why you’d be so interested in talking about her all the time.”

Yaz didn’t even dignify that with a response. Liking Juliette? No way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the song they sing in assembly.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1gUbdNbu6ak
> 
> The Bone Collector is the first in an excellent series of books by Jeffery Deaver. The film is adequate!


	6. Science Club

A sunny September had given way to a wet and drizzly October. Yaz hated the damp, chilly weather. She liked summer with its heat. She even liked the proper cold of winter. But she hated the soggy chill of autumn, it made her feel down and the seemingly unending damp, darkness made her want to scream with frustration.

And if she had been hoping that her relationship with Juliette might have improved at all she had been thoroughly disappointed on that front. It wasn’t worse as such, but Juliette was just so closed off, four weeks in and she didn’t know a single thing about the woman – was she married; did she have kids; what part of town did she live in? She literally never offered anything that could be considered personal information, to the point where it was a little strange. But Yaz had finally heeded everyone’s advice and no longer took everything Juliette said to heart, she was better at ignoring her and tried not to be offended by her cold attitude; she had the same attitude with everyone. 

Yaz was sitting alone in her classroom after school. When she had worked with a partner before, they had always sat together after work with their marking, usually with music on, a few biscuits and a coffee while they ploughed through the books and any preparations they needed for the next day. Teaching could be a lonely profession, even though you were surrounded by people all day and working with your colleagues and friends after school helped and reminded you that even when it was hard, you weren’t alone.

She and Juliette did not have that kind of relationship. Yaz could see her though, through the door that separated their two rooms that neither of them ever used. She was sitting at her desk, a purple pen in her hands as she presumably marked her own books. She held her pen at a funny angle though her handwriting, a beautiful calligraphy script, made Yaz jealous. Her hair was currently obscuring her face, not tucked behind her ears like it normally was. Yaz wondered what her expression was – when they were together her face was usually a scowl or thinly veiled contempt. With the kids she was soft and relaxed. In groups she was guarded and closed off, her entire body language warning people not to come too close.

As if she sensed she was being stared at, Juliette looked up suddenly and Yaz quickly ducked her head, embarrassed about getting caught, and getting back to the appalling maths work her class had produced that day. She could feel Juliette’s gaze boring into her, and it took all her willpower not to look up. 

Yaz _hated_ marking. With a passion. Some teachers thought that teachers lower down the school had less to mark and that was partly true. But while her kids didn’t (usually) write as much as the older ones their writing was considerably harder to decipher! That and most of them couldn’t be trusted to find the right page in their books let alone accurately stick in their own worksheets which the older kids could do which meant she had to do it. And all that took time which could be frustrating when she had a long to do list.

Yaz kept her head down and kept working, she really wanted to get out of work before the caretaker threw her out for a change. It wasn’t until there was a bang at her door that she looked up and her eyebrows raised as she saw Juliette doing battle with it. The door was a heavy fire door which opened out of the room and she was clearly struggling though she also seemed to have a knack as before Yaz could rise to help her (and most likely be insulted for her trouble) Juliette had opened the door and barged her way through. She had a couple of the kids’ books balanced on her lap and for once she wasn’t glaring, she had a deep frown line in her forehead, but she looked concerned rather than terrifying, and for a change Yaz didn’t feel the need to back away from her.

“I need to speak to you,” she said bluntly, stopping at the back of the room. Yaz suddenly realised that her classroom was so small that Juliette couldn’t actually fit down the aisle between the tables in her wheelchair, even though it was a much more compact design than any she had ever really noticed before.

“Okay…” Yaz got up, she wasn’t going to talk across the classroom but then something happened.

Juliette’s body went rigid and then started to shake. The books that were on her lap fell to the floor and her face twisted and she let out a gasp as she grabbed the wheels of her chair.

She looked like she was having a seizure.

Shit! _Was_ she having a seizure?

“Juliette! Are you okay?” What’s happening?”

Yaz bolted across the classroom trying to remember what the hell she was supposed to do for someone having a seizure.

“M’fine.” She grunted. She sounded terrible, like all the air had been squeezed out of her.

But she didn’t look fine, her face was contorted in pain and she looked like she was going to end up on the floor as her body… vibrated violently.

“What do you need? Should I call an ambulance?” Yaz asked, panicking.

Juliette had closed her eyes and was biting her lip, Yaz wasn’t even sure she could answer verbally but she shook her head very definitely.

Yaz watched in fright, feeling utterly helpless. It felt like it was lasting forever even though it had been less than thirty seconds.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it finished. Her body stilled and her face relaxed. She breathed harshly for a minute as though she had just run a race before she used her arms to push her body back into a better position in her wheelchair.

Yaz couldn’t help but stare at her.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded.

Juliette met her eye. “It’s nothing, you don’t need to worry about it.”

“That wasn’t nothing! Are you epileptic or something?” Yaz persisted. “Because if you are, I really think that’s something I should know about.”

“I don’t have epilepsy.”

She rolled forwards slightly and flopped forwards in her wheelchair to pick up the books she had been carrying from the floor where they had fallen.

“Can I help?” Yaz asked, uncomfortable with watching her struggle.

“No thank-you Yasmin,” she said firmly, as she physically pushed herself back upright by leaning on her legs and putting the books on a table. “I want to talk to you about the twins.”

Yaz sat down on one of the kid’s tables, internally scolding herself for feeling nervous. This was _her_ classroom, not Juliette’s. She was staring at Juliette, she knew she was, just waiting for her to start having another fit or whatever the hell that had been. Yaz glanced uneasily at her legs, they were, as usual, leaned slightly to one side and, as they normally were, utterly, almost unnervingly still. They always were unless she was jiggling them with impatience or annoyance. Did the woman never fidget? It was _weird_.

Juliette spread the books she had brought with her across the table and Yaz noticed they belonged to Rosie, Lilly’s twin sister. Yaz was almost relieved to see the standard of work from Rosie was no better than what Lilly was producing, made her feel marginally less like a failure at least. Juliette always struck her as the kind of woman who never failed at anything in particular.

Regardless, the girls were both six years old, the oldest in the year group having already repeated their reception year in an attempt to boost their confidence, social and academic skills. Looking at their books, it was clear that it hadn’t worked. The majority of the children in the class were writing in full sentences with a reasonable attempt at spelling words, decent handwriting and the basics of grammar; full stops; capital letters and finger spaces. Rosie and Lilly on the other hand… neither girl was able to write their name yet, they didn’t know their basic alphabet, they couldn’t read or spell any words, couldn’t count to three…

Yaz couldn’t believe how much more pleasant Juliette was to talk to when she was talking about the kids. She was calm, knowledgeable and concerned as the two of them managed to work together to put a plan into place to support the two girls. It was almost… pleasant, which unnerved Yaz even more somehow.

When they had put together their plan, and Yaz had sent two copies to the printer, she and Juliette left the room together. This time, Yaz held the door open for her, she suspected that Juliette’s struggle with the door had triggered whatever that had been. She collected the plans, deposited one on Juliette’s desk, the woman herself having disappeared though her coat was still on its hook, and went back to her marking.

Although she wasn’t out of work before the caretaker threw her out, Yaz felt a lot better as she left work that night, very much hoping that hers and Juliette’s relationship would improve after their evening working together. They were never going to be best friends, that much was obvious, but if things improved just a little it would make Yaz’s work life a lot more bearable.

On the way home, Yaz stopped and bought a door stop so she could prop her door open like Juliette did. It wasn’t much but hopefully it would make Juliette feel welcome in her classroom.

Yaz hated staff meetings. She’d always known that. But this week’s had come with an added, unpleasant twist. All staff who didn’t already run an after school club had been assigned to one. Which was why she was now reluctantly trailing into Juliette’s classroom for science club. _Why?_ Of all the clubs she could have been assigned to, w _hy_ was it Juliette’s? Did Missy have something against her already? Maybe this was payback for being late on her first day. She had to work with Juliette the rest of the time, couldn’t someone else have had a go for a while?

All kids who were staying for clubs met in the hall for fifteen minutes at the end of the day for a snack and to give the teachers a chance to set up. Juliette wasn’t in her classroom, but the door was open and Yaz reluctantly trailed out after her to the schools shared outdoor classroom which had wooden benches, logs instead of stools, all arranged in rows, outdoor taps and hoses amongst other things and was a favourite place for messy activities. She had boxes full of containers on the floor beside some bags from Asda. Yaz stifled a groan when she looked inside and realised they contained coca-cola and mentos. She’d done the experiment plenty of times. And it was always a horrible, sticky mess to clean up. And how Juliette had lugged them all outside in her wheelchair Yaz had no ideas.

“You’re late. I’ve been out here for nearly ten minutes already.” She said icily.

_Well hello to you too._

“Can you put three mentos on each table in a pot. No more than three.”

_Yes, I can count to three thank you very much._

Yaz resented her tone but she did it anyway without comment, this was Juliette’s club after all and after Christmas the school would offer different clubs. If she chose one of her own, then she wouldn’t have to work with Juliette anymore.

By the time she had finished, Juliette was pouring precise amounts of coke into jugs and then into differently shaped containers. Yaz stared for a moment as she watched Juliette, she seemed to be having to prop herself up against the table while she did it though she didn’t spill any of it. Between the two of them, the space was set up in a few minutes and they went to collect the children from the assembly hall where they had been having their snacks.

It was only as they went to collect them that Yaz noticed the large step up to the classroom. She was fascinated as Juliette approached it backwards, bumping down heavily, a look of discomfort flashing briefly across her face.

Watching her go back up a few minutes later, with all the kids in a neat line behind her, was even more impressive as she popped a wheelie, leaned forwards and used the wall of the classroom and one wheel to force her chair up over the step. She made it look easy though Yaz doubted that it was.

Yaz was standing at the end of the teachers bench that Juliette was teaching from. It had an old-fashioned blackboard behind it, more appropriate for the open wooden walls of the space, and Juliette had Yaz dictating her instructions for her though she felt a bit redundant. She looked the part of a scientist with a pristine white lab coat and goggles.

Watching Juliette set up the deep bowl of coke and a whole packet of mentos to drop into it, at a bench that was designed to be used by someone who was standing, made Yaz nervous, it looked so awkward, like an accident waiting to happen.

“Should you be doing that?” she heard herself say nervously, she had visions of Juliette getting a face full of the disgusting mixture that she knew was liable to explode with an impressive force.

Juliette glared at her. “Yasmin, I have master’s degrees in chemistry and physics and a doctorate in astrophysics. I think I can manage the mentos and coke experiment.”

Yaz tried to hide her surprise. In her head she had assumed Juliette was a medical doctor and had had to stop practicing when she had gotten sick or whatever it was that had put her in a wheelchair. If she had two degrees and a doctorate, why on earth was she wasting her time in a primary school?

Juliette dropped the mentos into the coke and flicked the wheels of her chair, pushing herself back from the table as rapidly as she could. She was fine… Yaz less so as somehow the eruption managed to catch her, soaking her leg. Part of her wondered if Juliette had planned it that way.

The kids screamed excitedly and laughed, cheering.

“Right you lot!” Juliette said excitedly as they calmed down. “Your turn! Everyone stand up for me.”

“You’re not!” called out a voice from the back.

Yaz winced, she recognised him. His name was Samuel, one of the Year Six boys, the oldest kids in the school at eleven years old. He was also Ashton’s older brother; the one Clara had been complaining about on her first day.

Juliette turned to face him, her eyebrows slightly raised. “Samuel after being in my class for two years you know full well that that’s not going to happen.” She replied evenly.

Samuel sighed dramatically. “I could just steal your wheelchair, then you’d have to stand up.”

Juliette chose to ignore that comment and moved away to help a pair of worried looking Year Three girls.

“I think you’re too lazy to stand up,” Samuel taunted, clearly annoyed by Juliette’s lack of response.

The rest of the group was silent, watching the exchange.

“Samuel if I was lazy I really don’t think I would be volunteering my time after school for science club but seeing as that’s your opinion of me you can go home now, you don’t need to come back.”

He looked shocked.

“You can't do that Miss Smith!” he burst out.

“Doctor Smith,” she corrected in the same tone of voice she normally only reserved for the adults in work rather than the children.

Samuel looked like he was going to burst. He picked up his school bag which had been at his feet and threw it as hard as he could at Juliette who didn’t manage to duck in time, and it bounced off her shoulder painfully.

There was a stunned silence from the rest of the kids. Even Samuel seemed to realise he had gone too far and he froze.

“Samuel please pick up your bag. Miss Khan will escort you to the office and wait with you there until your parents arrive to collect you.”

Juliette’s voice left no room for arguments and Yaz could easily see how she had gotten her reputation for being strict though it was the first time she had seen it in action.

“I DIDN’T WANT TO DO IT ANYWAY!” he screamed, jumping up from his seat and storming off towards the building, kicking his bag across the playground in front of him and Yaz followed.

Yaz ended up having to sit in the office with him for forty minutes as his angry parents refused to come any earlier. They were not happy he had been asked to leave the club though Yaz wasn’t going to fight that battle. Personally, she thought Juliette had been a little harsh; rudeness such as his couldn’t and shouldn’t be tolerated but she wouldn’t personally have kicked him out altogether, maybe just for a week or two. Instead, she told them they could phone Doctor Smith via the office if they wished to discuss the issue further before heading back outside to clean the almighty mess Juliette and the science club was sure to have created.

Yaz was both surprised and relieved that Juliette was well on her way to having everything sorted by the time she made it out, all the sticky containers were already soaking in the massive, outdoor sink and she was literally hosing down the tables while also enjoying the leftover sweets.

Yaz headed over to the sink, she found dishes soothing, and started to wash up, leaving them to drip dry on the draining rack. Juliette appeared beside her when she was finished with her hosing down and started to dry up.

It was almost… maybe not friendly. Amicable?

“Samuel’s parents aren’t happy.” Yaz told her.

“No, I didn’t think they would be.”

“They’re planning to phone you to discuss your decision to remove Sam from the club and threatened to take it further.”

“Yes, I expected that. They don’t like me. I was supposed to have Ashton in my class this year, but they kicked up such a fuss that they moved him.”

Yaz wasn’t sure what to make of that information. Juliette had a reputation for being strict and having high standards, or was it her disability they had issue with? Juliette offered no further information about what exactly the family took an issue with though and they fell into uncomfortable silence as they finished the washing up and packed everything away to put back in the science cupboard.

Yaz picked up the bags of rubbish to take in for the cleaners and Juliette balanced the box of containers carefully on her lap which she had to put it on the floor as she carefully bumped backwards down the step before picking it up again.

As she disappeared off to the science cupboard Yaz bade her goodnight which Juliette acknowledged with a nod, and Yaz hurried off to meet Rose and the girls in her swimming club.

As she always was, Yaz was glad it was Friday. She and Ryan had plans to go into town over the weekend to do some shopping, she wanted a couple of work jumpers now the weather was turning colder, and Ryan wanted a new coat. She hadn’t been shopping for a long time and it was even longer since she had properly picked out her own clothes.

Clara had been trying to persuade her to go shopping for a long time, but she just hadn’t been able to. Clara loved clothes and fashion and while Yaz loved her and valued her friendship, a shopping trip with Clara was just too much at the moment. She needed this to be more relaxed and low key. A small, manageable goal. Find two jumpers she liked and pay for them. She could do that. And only one day of school to get through between now and then.

That day, both Ashton and his older brother were absent, apparently their parents still weren’t happy with Juliette’s decision to remove Samuel from science club, though without Ashton there, Yaz was finding that her classroom was a very different place, much more relaxed and calm. And she felt more relaxed and calm too despite the fact that her stomach didn’t feel very settled and she had a worry in the back of her head that she might be coming down with something.

Usually on Fridays, Yaz was tearing her hair out by breaktime after the children had had to complete their ‘Big Write’, a whole school policy where they had time dedicated solely to writing about a given topic, that day they had taken an imaginary safari tour and written about what they had seen. Writing was usually a major trigger for Ashton who would then set off Liam but with Ashton absent, Liam worked hard as did the rest of the class and Yaz found herself giving out lots of her coveted, scented stickers to reward the children for their hard work before taking them out to the playground to join 1JS for break time. But the whole time, despite the more pleasant atmosphere, Yaz had been on edge; she did not feel right.

By the time she made it out to the playground Yaz knew she needed the bathroom, now.

_Why did it have to happen at work?_

Barely pausing for breath, Yaz asked Juliette to cover her for a moment and ran towards the accessible loo, the closest one to the playground, trying not to cry as the waves of pain started to course through her body, twisting her guts and stabbing her like a knife.

Yaz was sweating, shaking and crying as she clung to the grab bar beside the toilet, trying desperately not to scream. She could feel her vision wavering slightly and she stubbornly clung to consciousness.

It felt like someone had lit a fire in her insides and she knew she was a mess. Her face burned with humiliation as tears dripped down her cheeks.

Why here? Why now? Why couldn’t it have happened at home in the privacy and comfort of her own bathroom?

Yaz had at least been prepared and there was a small bag in the cupboard under the sink with a complete change of clothes in it as well as any other supplies she might need so she had been able to clean herself up and change. But it was nearly an hour later before her emergency medication had kicked in and she was clean and sorted and able to make her way back down to the classroom on wobbly legs. Part of her wanted to go home but she couldn’t let this win and rule her life. It was one of the worst attacks she’d had and it had to happen in work. She fully expected Juliette to go and complain to Missy. What if Missy told her about what happened in her last school? What if she found out in some other way? What if Missy didn’t think she should be teaching and fired her?

Yaz grabbed the wall for support and tried to steady her breathing. She couldn’t panic now. Or worse, pass out.

When Yaz had regained control, she realised she had no idea where her class was or who was looking after them and her face coloured with shame when she realised that Juliette was teaching both classes together – 1JS were at their desks while 1YK were sitting on the floor leaving Juliette no room to move around.

Yaz realised Juliette looked furious and it took everything she had not to recoil from her as she muttered an apology and collected her children, ushering them into their own classroom just in time to get them ready for lunch.

Instead of going to the staff room at lunch like she normally did, Yaz hid in her classroom. She took her things out to the car first, but she couldn’t face seeing the other teachers. It was taking everything she had not to hide under her desk and cry. At least Juliette left her alone and hadn’t come in to berate her. Yaz was feeling too unwell to risk lunch. Instead she had a few dry crackers that wouldn’t upset her stomach just to have something so she could take her regular medication and focused on trying to stay calm.

It turned out that Juliette had been saving her anger. As soon as her kids had disappeared, she appeared in Yaz’s classroom.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re playing at?” she demanded, her face like thunder.

“I'm sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Yaz apologised evenly, but inside she was still shaking.

“You can't just wander off in the middle of the day! Was that acceptable in your last school?”

Yaz took an involuntary step back from the venom that seemed to be dripping from Juliette’s tongue. She could feel it poisoning her.

“I had…”

“When you’re at work Yasmin, you need to be dedicated to your job first and foremost. You can't go and call your boyfriend or check your social media or drink coffee in the staffroom. The kids are the number one priority always. I should report you to Missy!”

Yaz searched desperately for something to say. She couldn’t promise it would never happen again, it wasn’t like she had control over it and she floundered.

There was steam coming out of Juliette’s ears as she angrily left the classroom and Yaz grabbed the side of her desk, shakily sinking into her seat.

She hadn’t managed to think of a retort but at least Juliette had gone.

A familiar feeling was welling up in her throat. She needed to get out of here.

It was all she could think about.

_GetOutGetOutGetOutGetOutGetOutGetOutGetOut_

Yaz slammed the lid of her laptop shut, grabbed her bag and ran.

By the time she got home, Yaz was barely holding herself together. She had texted Ryan from the car and to her relief, he was waiting for her. She was shaking so violently she could barely get out of the car and she was vaguely aware of Ryan wrapping his strong arms around her and guiding her upstairs to the privacy of their flat where he deposited her gently on the sofa, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it tightly around her shoulders.

“Yaz, you’re alright mate, yeah? You’re alright. Take my hands for me Yaz.”

His voice was low and soothing, but it was like it was dancing around on the membranes of her brain like the words couldn’t quite penetrate and Yaz grabbed at him blindly, struggling to focus on the sound and breathe.

Ryan took her hand and placed it on his chest.

“Breathe in time with me Yaz. You can do it. You’re home, you’re safe.”

But Yaz couldn’t. It felt like her chest was being crushed.

She couldn’t breathe.

She was going to die.

“Yaz, you’re safe, I promise. It’s just you and me here, we’re home and you’re safe, I promise,” Ryan reassured her. “Keep concentrating on my breathing okay?”

She could feel his chest rising and falling but it was so hard to match her breaths to it.

“You’re doing great Yaz, I promise you’re safe. Keep breathing, well done.”

Slowly Yaz started to become more aware of her surroundings. The blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Ryan’s big, rough hands holding hers. The soft sofa with the dodgy spring she was sitting on. The TV showing a basketball game Ryan had evidently been watching. The corner lamp emitting a warm, soft glow. Ryan’s face; kind but concerned.

“Alright Yaz?” he asked gently.

Yaz nodded uncertainly, not really trusting herself to speak.

“What happened?”

To her intense embarrassment, Yaz burst into tears and she felt Ryan shift from where he had been crouching in front of her to sitting beside her on the sofa, pulling her in tight for a hug.

Yaz cried and cried until her body was a shaky, quivering wreck and she was aware of a damp patch on Ryan’s hoodie.

When she reached the hiccoughing stage Ryan gently untangled himself and made Yaz a cup of tea, pressing it firmly into her hands.

“Talk to me Yaz. What happened?”

“I had…” she sniffed “I had an… incident… in school.”

“Oh Yaz, I'm sorry. Did you make it to the bathroom?”

His face was so full of compassion she almost couldn’t bare to look at it.

“Yeah,” she answered finally, “but I was there for nearly an hour. And Juliette ended up with both classes and at the end of the day…”

Yaz choked out the rest of the story, telling Ryan the whole, horrible story of what had happened with Juliette in her classroom after school.

“What if she does go and tell Missy, Ryan? What if she fires me? What if I can't be a teacher anymore.?

“Yaz, if she were gonna tell Missy then she would have done it, not just threatened it. Besides, Missy has a legal obligation to make adaptations for you. She can't fire you for this. And Juliette is just being a bitch.”

“She was so human earlier this week.”

“Just stay out of her way Yaz, she sounds poisonous.”

“The way she shouted at me… it was like Isaac all over again.”

“He’s in prison Yaz. He can't hurt you anymore.”

“I know.”

“You’re amazing Yaz, you’re so strong. You have amazing friends. You’re a fantastic teacher. You’ve joined a swim club, you’re socialising. You’re not just surviving, you’re thriving. I'm so proud of you Yaz, every day you move on with your life is like you giving the finger to Isaac. He’s not worthy of your thoughts or your time.”

“You’re a really good friend Ryan.”

“I know.”

Yaz smiled despite herself, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Seriously though Ryan, thank you. It’s not your job to have to look after me every time I become a basket case.”

“You’re not a basket case Yaz. You’ve been through hell the last few years. You’re doing so well.”

Yaz snorted.

“You _are_ Yaz. You’re amazing.”

He put an arm around her shoulder, and she relaxed against him as he flicked the TV over to something mindless they could watch together while Yaz concentrated on the comforting mug of tea in her hands.


	7. Fire

Yaz anxiously stared at the rails of clothes in front of her. _So_ many choices. It was a long time since she had stood in a shop and everything had been her choice. Isaac had always chosen before. And paid. Even if she had been earning more than he had, he had insisted that the money went into their ‘shared’ account that she had no access to. It was funny, she had been free of him for more than two years, he was in prison and could get nowhere near her, but doing things like this still made her terrified of his reaction.

She had a goal. Two jumpers. Chosen because she liked them not because she thought Isaac might like them. And paid for with her own pay cheque.

But there were so many choices it was utterly overwhelming. It made her feel sick.

And like Isaac might appear from right behind her at any moment.

“See any you like?” Ryan asked, appearing beside her from nowhere.

Yaz shrugged uncomfortably.

“Yaz I know nothing about shopping for women’s clothes but it’s just a jumper. You can have whatever one you like and if you take it home and change your mind, we can bring it back.”

“I know.” She acknowledged.

“Is there any that stand out to you?”

There was a long pause.

“I kind of like that one.” She said finally, indicating one to her left. It was a soft, sky blue with a round neck and very plain apart from a small, knitted detail over the shoulders.

“That’s really nice.” Ryan told her. “I think the colour would suit you.”

“Since when do you know what colours suit people.”

“I don’t, it just sounded like what I was supposed to say.” He said with a shrug.

Yaz burst out laughing, the tension she was feeling broken and she lifted up the jumper in her size, draping it over her arm. One down, one to go.

“Are there any others you like in here?” Ryan asked.

“I don’t think so… is it okay if we try somewhere else?”

“Yaz, y’don’t have to ask.”

Yaz paid for her jumper and carried the bag it came in feeling proud, like she had really accomplished something before she and Ryan took a break for lunch. Ryan took her to a local Mexican place where they made burritos from scratch with whatever the customer wanted and were as good as Ryan had promised before they wandered off around the shops again.

In the next shop Yaz’s eye was caught by a navy and yellow jumper. The back was yellow while the front and sleeves were navy and yellow striped. It was lovely and felt so warm and cosy.

“Are you going to buy it?” Ryan prompted her, correctly working out what had caught Yaz’s eye. 

“No… I don’t think so.” Yaz said reluctantly.

“Why not? It’s nice. And you love yellow.”

“I can't.” Yaz admitted, blushing slightly as she twisted her hands anxiously in front of her.

“Why not?” Ryan probed gently.

“Isaac won’t let me wear stripes. He says they make me look fat,” Yaz whispered, ashamed.

“Yaz… look at me… Yaz, Isaac doesn’t get a say anymore. Not now. Not ever. You can wear whatever you want. All that matters is that you like it, and it makes you feel good.”

“I don’t know…” she whispered, looking upset.

“Do you like it?” Ryan asked reasonably.

Yaz nodded.

“Can you afford it?”

She nodded again.

“Then buy it Yaz. It’s just a jumper, nothing bad is gonna happen. Promise. And if you get it home and change your mind, you can always return it. Okay?”

Yaz finally relented and bought the jumper, half expecting Isaac to appear from nowhere and mock her for it. But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He was in prison where he couldn’t hurt her. She just had to remember that.

“Hey Ryan, I need the bathroom, I’ll be back.” Yaz said suddenly as they left the shop.

“You okay?”

“Yeah just… now.” She said urgently, looking around for the nearest bathroom.

“There’s one over there.” Ryan pointed out. “I’m going in here, I’ll wait for you. Shout if you need anything.”

Yaz waved over her shoulder to acknowledge him, already hurrying off. She didn’t feel as bad as she had in school the other day, but she didn’t feel great.

Half an hour later Yaz felt a lot better. She washed her hands and took a deep breath, the shopping centre had been getting busier and busier and now Ryan wasn’t there.

Someone knocked on the door. As they had done five minutes before. And five minutes before that. It had only made her more anxious and stressed. She couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like she was having fun.

Shaking her sweaty palms out Yaz opened the door… and nearly fell over the person on the other side.

It was Juliette.

Of course it was Juliette.

Yaz froze.

She did not look happy. Not that she ever did. She looked annoyed, frustrated, exasperated? Yaz wasn’t sure. But it wasn’t a look that she liked she knew that much. 

Wasn’t it enough that she had to see the odious woman five days a week and now she had to run into her on a weekend too?

“Are you going to stop the people who actually need that bathroom from using it for the rest of the day?” Juliette demanded.

Livid. That was how she looked Yaz decided. 

Yaz gulped. It took every ounce of self-restraint that she had not to run. Not where Juliette could see her. She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

Clenching her fists so hard she broke the skin of her hands with her nails Yaz managed to make it to the stairwell. As soon as she was halfway down and knew she couldn’t be seen, her self-control vanished in an instant and she _ran_.

She didn’t care that people were staring at her. She didn’t care that she kept banging into people. She didn’t care what she looked like. She just had to get out of there. She couldn’t do this. Why did she ever think she could?

Isaac was right, she was useless and weak and pathetic. She shouldn’t have tried to run away from him, that’s what had pushed him over the edge and no one else would ever put up with her.

There was a soft knock on Yaz’s bedroom door. She was lying on her bed, her Eeyore cushion under her head and Pting curled up in front her. Yaz buried her hand in Pting’s soft, grey fur and ignored it. She didn’t want to talk to Ryan again.

“Yaz, it’s us. Let us in.” came Clara’s voice from the other side of the door.

Maybe if she lay really still, they would think she had gone out?

“Yaz we know you’re in there. Ryan let us in, and he told us you were.”

That was Bill.

Yaz ignored them. Hopefully they could take a hint.

They couldn’t. 

The door handle clicked as it opened, and two pairs of feet trod quietly on the carpet towards her. Yaz absent-mindedly scratched the spot between Pting’s ears, hoping to block them out. Pting, on the other hand, didn’t seem to fancy the idea of their privacy being invaded; he yowled indignantly and leapt nimbly off Yaz’s chest. Yaz watched through slightly hazy vision as he padded away huffily, tail swishing in the air before she reluctantly raised her eyes to acknowledge Clara and Bill, who stood a respectable distance away from her bed, watching her with concern. Again.

“Hey,” she managed to croak out, embarrassed at how rough and shaky her voice sounded. She felt truly pathetic. She must look a real sight. Yaz pushed her hair out of her face and gave her friends a watery smile. “How are you?”

“Never mind us,” Clara said softly, coming to sit next to her. The mattress dipped beneath her weight, and she placed a comforting hand over Yaz’s. “Ryan texted, he told us what happened yesterday. About Juliette.”

“Who is she, anyway?” Bill asked.

As there was no space left on the bed, she’d leant against Yaz’s bedside table, arms folded, frowning.

“You’ve mentioned her a couple of times on the group chat, but you’ve never really talked about her properly… What?” she said, at Clara’s raised eyebrows. “I’m curious. Both you and Yaz know her. She’s a teacher at your school, right?”

“Yeah,” Yaz sniffed. “She is. Teaching partner with me for Year One. She’s… she’s…”

“An arse?” Bill supplied helpfully.

“Nah.” Clara took over for Yaz. “Well, yes and no. She’s very closed off. Very antisocial. Never comes to the staffroom, real cold fish anytime I’ve had to speak to her. I’ve worked with her for years and I know nothing about her. But then again,” she shrugged, “I’m not her teaching partner. Don’t get the opportunity to get to know her, really. Not that I particularly want to.”

“She’s intimidating,” Yaz said, after a pause. “She’s great with the kids, but with me, she’s… she’s…” She squeezed her eyes shut.

A hot tear seeped out from beneath her eyelashes and trickled down her cheek. Clara squeezed her hand comfortingly. A soft meow announced Pting’s arrival; soon, there was a warm weight settling itself on Yaz’s chest and she buried her face Pting’s fur once again, listening to the gentle, deep sound of his purrs.

“Go on,” Bill prompted gently, a hint of curiosity laced through her tone.

“I was a bit rude to her when we first met.” Yaz admitted slowly. “She’s in a wheelchair and I didn’t realise. Think I offended her and ever since she’s… like Clara said. She’s cold. It’s like she doesn’t know how to interact with people or something. She thinks I'm stupid or something. She’s not in charge or anything but it’s her way or no way. She’s so rude and uncaring. Then on Friday she had to cover me while I went to the toilet but yesterday I was in the accessible toilet in town and when I came out she was right there,” Yaz burst out. “I have to put up with her all week and then she just appeared yesterday, and she was so rude to me and I just felt so caught out…” Yaz sniffed and wiped her eyes again. The thought still made her feel sick.

“What happened Yaz?” Clara prompted her carefully.

“I ran” Yaz whispered. “I ran away from her, all the way through town and then hid in the car park behind Ryan’s car until he came to find me.” Her cheeks flushed with shame and she concentrated on winding Eeyore’s tail around her fingers so she didn’t have to look at her friends.

“Oh Yaz.” Clara sighed softly.

“It’s fine. I was being pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic Yaz. Don’t say that. You’ve been through a lot but you’re doing so well.”

“I'm twenty-seven years old and was cowering behind parked cars to hide from my bitchy colleague.” Yaz said listlessly. “That’s definitely pathetic.”

“Yaz stop calling yourself pathetic. I forbid it.”

“How am I supposed to face her on Monday?” Yaz wailed. “I'm such an idiot. And she’s awful.”

“With your head held high. Yaz, you haven’t done anything wrong here. You are just as entitled to be in that bathroom as she is.” Bill pointed out.

Yaz sat up a little and Bill elbowed her way onto her other side so Yaz was now surrounded by her friends with Pting on her lap who had decided to wander back into the room.

“It’s not like you see her much at school anyway Yaz. You said so yourself.” Clara pointed out. “You guys spend almost no time together apart from PPA and Science Club. In Science Club you’ve got the kids there so she can't say anything, and I’ve seen you guys in PPA, you literally sit at opposite ends of the table and ignore each other for the most part.”

“I know. I just… God I think I’m actually scared of her.”

“Don’t be scared of her Yaz. Don’t let her win. She’s not worth it. Just because no one hugged her enough as a kid and she never learned how to play well with others. We all trained and worked together, we know you’re an incredible teacher and dedicated to your job. This is her problem, not yours.”

Yaz was dreading going to school and having to face Juliette. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning and as a result, she felt tired, grumpy and underprepared for the day on top of the huge pit of anxiety that was bubbling away in her stomach. Ryan had offered to drive her in and collect her, but she had declined, she felt pathetic enough without having someone holding her hand. But she did let him get up early and sit with her while she had breakfast and took her medication.

“You sure you’re alright Yaz?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Yaz lied as she picked up the box of maths books she had brought home with her, her laptop, her lunch and her bag. It was a struggled to carry them all, but the struggle was good, it meant she could concentrate on making it to her car rather than how much she wanted to run away.

Yaz wasn’t sure what kind of car Juliette drove (could she even drive?) but there were no other cars when she arrived at the school, so she didn’t have to worry about running into her just yet. She lugged everything down to her classroom and started her morning routine – turning on the laptop, checking her email and then heading down to the staffroom to make a tea. But as usual, when she came back, the lights were on in Juliette’s classroom. Yaz kept her gaze resolutely ahead and walked past as quickly as she could, determined to avoid the woman for as long as possible.

It wasn’t for long. By the time Yaz had sat down at her desk with the day’s planning in front of her, Juliette had barged in again (the doorstop Yaz had bought was on top of one of her tall cupboards).

Yaz raised her eyes, looking at Juliette in acknowledgement of her presence but she didn’t speak.

“I need to talk to you.” Juliette demanded, her voice was like ice and Yaz fought the urge to move away from her as she crossed her arms across her chest defensively. She still didn’t say anything.

“People like you make my life so much more difficult. The accessible toilets aren’t your private place to go and have a poo or to change your clothes or do your make-up. Some of us actually need them and you being in there is rude, inconsiderate and thoughtless.”

How did Juliette seem to manage to tower over her even though in her wheelchair she only came up to Yaz’s elbows or so?

Yaz felt like something had snapped. She couldn’t live like this anymore. She was not going to be afraid of her. Juliette was a small, miserable woman who clearly had nothing better to do than make the lives of everyone around her difficult and Yaz wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. Not anymore. She was done. She stood up, leaning over her desk.

“You know what Juliette? Not every condition is visible. I don’t use a wheelchair but that does not mean I don’t need the space, privacy and features of an accessible bathroom so don’t you dare come into my room and start telling me I'm inconsiderate and thoughtless. I would say that I would expect you to understand but I have never met anyone as uncaring and unfeeling as you. Now if you’re finished telling me off I actually have quite a lot of work to do,” Yaz snapped angrily.

Juliette glared at her for a moment. If Yaz wasn’t mistaken, she thought she might have seen a small smirk. Juliette left the classroom without a word and Yaz sank shakily back into her chair. She felt proud of herself. She had stood up for herself. She hadn’t raised her voice or shouted. But she had been firm. She hadn’t cried. And while she would probably never get an apology from Juliette, at least she had said her piece.

Yaz felt like she was riding a bit of a high for the rest of the morning. She hadn’t had to see Juliette in person again though she could see her working through the door between their classrooms that was still kept shut most of the time. She was still furious with Juliette. How dare she accuse her of that? But she was also proud of herself, it was almost like being the old Yaz. The before everything happened Yaz. She hadn’t been that Yaz for a long time. So long that she could barely remember her.

At lunchtime she dismissed her kids and tidied up her maths lesson, planning to spend twenty minutes setting up for the afternoon before escaping to the staffroom with Clara and Jack for a catchup and to reassure Clara that she was feeling better than she had been the day before; she had had numerous texts from both Clara and Bill on Sunday evening and that morning.

Just as she was grabbing her lunchbox from her bag a piercing wail broke the peaceful silence of the empty classroom. Yaz jumped violently before she realised it was the fire alarm. She went to shut her classroom door and that was when she smelled it. Smoke.

 _Shit_.

There was an actual fire.

Trying not to panic Yaz grabbed the fire register from the back of the door and the class medical box from the top shelf of her cupboard which contained three inhalers and an epi-pen belonging to various students. She had a quick glance to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything and was on her way outside when she caught sight of Juliette. She was struggling with the heavy fire door, her own class medical box had fallen on the floor and the lid had popped off. For the first time Yaz grabbed the handle of the door between their classrooms. She coughed slightly, the room stank of smoke.

“What the hell are you doing? Get out!” Juliette shouted. She was coughing weakly and her eyes were streaming which lessened the effect.

“For crying out loud, get over yourself. I don’t like you but I'm not leaving you inside when I can smell smoke now move!” Yaz shouted back, picking up the medical box and handing it to her before pulling the heavy door open easily and releasing them both into their outdoor area.

The whole school fire assembly point was at the back of the fields and Yaz could see the whole school already lined up neatly. Some were with their teachers, others with the dinner staff with the last few members of staff still making their way out of the buildings.

Juliette was still coughing weakly and spluttering as she pushed her way out and they hurried across the wet playground to the edge of the field and Yaz watched her in concern. The classroom had smelled strongly of smoke but there hadn’t actually been any smoke in there. Was it the fast pace? Was she asthmatic? Was she… sick?

But it was only when they were making their way across the field that Juliette actually stopped.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Yaz asked. Was she always so pale?

“Go register your kids. I'm fine, just stuck.” She grunted in frustration, trying to turn her wheels but she was clearly stuck.

“Let me help.”

“I don’t need your help!”

“We’re right outside the building and you don’t know where the fire is. Stop being so pig-headed and let me help!”

Yaz shoved her box into Juliette’s arms, taking her lack of protest as consent and moved behind her. Only Juliette’s wheelchair didn’t have any handles, it was smooth and curved around her back instead. Yaz grabbed her backrest and shoved her forward hard.

“Yasmin!” she shouted, throwing her arms back to counterbalance as she nearly fell forwards.

“Then tell me what to do so we can both go and stand with our classes and not near the burning building!”

Juliette let out a frustrated breath and seemed to be internally debating for a moment. “You need to tip my chair onto it’s back wheels and pull me out.” She said finally.

With Juliette’s help, Yaz was able to tip Juliette’s wheelchair onto its back wheels. One of the office staff had taken their medical boxes off her and she was working to hold her balance in the wheelie and working her wheels strongly to move across the field.

With her back to everyone, Yaz couldn’t see everyone staring at them but she could feel it. The kids would be staring openly, the staff would be pretending not to even though they were. She could feel their eyes boring into her as she wrestled with Juliette’s wheelchair. The lack of anywhere proper to hold onto made it so much more difficult and Yaz was terrified of dropping her. She was also conscious that her fingers were probably digging painfully into Juliette’s back though the other woman didn’t complain for a change.

Finally, finally, they made it across the field, unbelievably not quite the last, and they took their places at the head of their classes, the fire register having already been done.

It was freezing cold outside. Luckily the kids all had their coats, Yaz remembered one dramatic fire drill a few years ago when her class had been changing for PE in December and had had to go outside in bare feet and shorts, some of them barely dressed and one poor child who had been naked wrapped in her coat.

Yaz was cold but she was coping, beside her Juliette was visibly shaking with the cold and Yaz could actually hear her teeth chattering though at least she had mostly stopped coughing. There was something about her cough that sounded off to Yaz. Even so, it felt like they had been standing for an age, slowly getting colder and colder before Missy appeared with a megaphone.

“Okay everyone. Bad news is, there was a real fire. Good news, it was minor and has been dealt with, one of the toasters in the kitchen. Everyone can go back inside and get on with their day except Year One, your classrooms are a bit smoky and you’re going to need to go to the assembly hall for the rest of the day please.”

Yaz stifled a groan. Now she would have to spend the rest of the afternoon with Juliette, co-teaching when she wanted to be nowhere near her, still angry about how she insisted on treating her.

Their’s were the last classes to be dismissed and Yaz had to help Juliette wrestle her wheelchair out of the muddy bog that currently passed for their school playing fields. By the time they made it to the hard tarmac of the playground, Yaz couldn’t help but notice just how filthy Juliette’s chair was – caked in mud across the big wheels at the back and small ones at the front, all up the back rest, her boots and trousers were splattered in it and her hands and sleeves were caked.

“If you want to go clean up, I can take the kids inside and settle them.” Yaz offered awkwardly.

She could see Juliette debating. She was filthy but also probably felt like she had accepted enough help for the day. Everything Yaz knew about the woman (which was basically nothing) clearly indicated that accepting help was not something she did. Finally she relented with a curt nod.

“Thank-you Yasmin.”

Yaz directed one of the office staff to go into both Year One classrooms and grab the books the kids would need as well as her laptop. In the hall, she set up the bright yellow tables with attached blue stools they used for school dinners and got the kids seated, handing out pencils and exercise books while the children chattered noisily, excited and unsettled by the unexpected disruption to their routine.

“Macaroni Cheese!” Yaz shouted over the hubbub when she was ready, thankful there was only just over an hour of the day left.

“Everybody freeze!” the children chanted in unison, settling down quickly.

“Okay Year One, I know that was very exciting and this is a bit new and strange but we’re still going to try hard to complete the best history work that we can this afternoon because we’re going to learn about someone very important…

“Miss Khan?” interrupted a boy in her class as soon as Yaz paused for breath. “Why is Doctor Smith in a wheelchair?”

“I don’t know sweetheart.” Yaz told him honestly praying, he didn’t ask Juliette to her face. “But that’s not really going to help us with our history lesson is it?”

Juliette was gone longer than Yaz expected, it was well over half an hour before she reappeared, her wheelchair returned to its normal state and clearly wearing a clean pair of trousers though her shoes were still splattered with mud. Yaz had just set the children off on their task, writing a diary entry from the perspective of Mary Anning when she found the Icthyosaurus skeleton.

Yaz kept working with the group of children she was with without acknowledging Juliette, waiting for her to take over like she always did. But she didn’t. There was relative peace in the hall as Yaz worked with the group of kids who needed intensive support to write simple words and sentences, prompting them to use their phonics skills and the wordmats she had provided them with while Juliette wheeled around the hall, supporting the other children and not coming anywhere near Yaz’s group.

At the end of the day, Yaz and Juliette got the children into neat rows on the floor. Yaz put the tables away while Juliette read the children a story. Yaz had to admit that she was good at reading, she had voices for all the different characters, and it made Yaz wish she as five years old and sitting on the floor too. She had loved being read to as a child and she had vague memories of her Nani reading to her when she had been sick in hospital.

“That person is in a buggy like you!” one of Yaz’s kids shouted excitedly. Yaz looked up to see Cora pointing to a character in the background of the story who was in a wheelchair.

Yaz’s eyes widened in horror. _Why_ did it have to be one of her kids? Why did they have to call it a buggy? Why did they have to draw attention to it at all?

“Hey good noticing Cora.” Juliette praised. Her face and her tone of voice were neutral and Yaz couldn’t tell if she was upset or angry or what. No doubt she would find out after school. “But buggies are for babies, I use a wheelchair.”

“Oh…” Cora’s brow wrinkled with confusion. “Miss Smith why do you use a wheelchair?” she asked innocently.

Yaz was both simultaneously wishing the ground would swallow her up while also being filled with a burning curiosity. Because she had no idea why Juliette was in a wheelchair. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wasn’t paralysed because she always jiggled her legs when she was stressed or angry. After the incident where Juliette had the fit, or whatever it had been, she was pretty sure she was sick though with what, Yaz had no idea. Her reaction to the smoke and weak coughs earlier had only cemented that in her mind. Presumably it was a sensitive subject and Yaz knew she would never be able to ask her.

“Doctor Smith.” Juliette corrected.

“Miss Doctor Smith why do you use a wheelchair?” Cora repeated.

“Because she can't walk stupid!” shouted one of the boys from Juliette’s class rudely.

“Hey, we don’t call people name in year one. I use my wheelchair because it helps me get around.” Juliette answered simply, already getting back to their story as if the interruption hadn’t happened.

Internally Yaz was dying of curiosity, Juliette’s answer had explained absolutely nothing though Cora seemed satisfied. Yaz missed the rest of the story as she zoned out and she managed to dismiss her kids at the end of the day without having to look at or talk to Juliette.

With the kids gone, Yaz started clearing up their books and the pencils that somehow seemed to have scattered across the hall along with a handful of stray markers that had of course, inexplicably, lost their lids. Behind her she could hear the soft squeak of Juliette’s tyres against the polished floor as she presumably did the same. The silence made Yaz feel awkward and uncomfortable. She was still angry with Juliette about that morning, every time she thought about it, she wanted to storm out of the room and never come back but she resisted, trying to take the high ground.

Yaz heaved the box of books into her arms to take back to the classroom. They weighed a tonne and she balanced them uncomfortably against her hip, picking up a box of pencils in the other hand.

“Yasmin?” Juliette said suddenly, speaking for the first time since they had dismissed the kids.

Internally Yaz groaned. Now what? She just wanted to go home after her weird and crazy day and not have to talk to, look at or be with Juliette.

“What?” she demanded, a little more aggressively than she meant to though Juliette didn’t flinch.

“Thank you, for earlier. On the field and giving me a chance to clean up.”

Yaz stared at her. That was not what she had been expecting.

“And… I’m sorry, for what I said to you this morning. I shouldn’t have made assumptions.”

“I… thank-you.” Yaz said quietly, too surprised to say anything else. She carried her books out of the hall, glancing back at Juliette surreptitiously who was still ordering her own.

That had been unexpected. She had never known Juliette apologise for anything or backtrack on what she had already said. It almost made her seem human.


	8. Children In Need

Yaz dumped the shopping on the kitchen counter, rubbing her hands together briskly to alleviate the sting; a culmination from the cold and the heavy shopping bags she had just lugged up the four flights of stairs after her weekly food shop with Ryan. He staggered into the kitchen behind her, panting for breath and dumped his own bags on the floor. It was their personal mission each week to get all the bags up the stairs in one haul – no one wanted to climb four flights of stairs if they didn’t have to. 

Between them they emptied the bags methodically; freezer, fridge, cupboards and miscellaneous. 

“Got your fancy pyjamas?” Ryan asked her as they finished up and Yaz went to take some personal bits down to her bedroom. 

“What do you mean? They’re just jammies.” Yaz asked, confused about why he was making such a big deal over them. He’d been teasing her in the shop too. 

“Didn’t seem like it in the shop. Probably took you less time to choose your prom dress than it took you to choose those.” 

“Don’t be silly Ryan, they’re just jammies, even if I do have to wear them to work.” 

“You sure you’re not looking to impress someone?” Ryan asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “What about _Captain_ Jack?” 

Yaz rolled her eyes. “Honestly Ryan! Grow up. Jack is a friend and nothing more. Besides he has a boyfriend.” 

“How about Juliette then?” 

Yaz stared at him. “Juliette? Really? Just because I'm bi doesn’t mean I'm attracted to every person I meet you know.” She bristled, offended by the implication. 

Ryan held up his hands in defeat. “Hey, I was only joking,” he backed off, sensing he had upset her. 

“She makes my life miserable Ryan. I can't stand her.” 

“I thought things were better with you too now, since there was that fire a fortnight ago or whatever it was.” 

“It was just a toaster, wasn’t a big deal. And they are… sort of. She’s less of a bitch but she’s not really any easier to work with.” 

“Are you still staying out of her way?” Ryan asked, sliding a freshly brewed mug of tea across the counter to Yaz. 

“Most of the time. It’s not always easy, we work together and now we’re getting more into the term there’s more going on. Jack is taking both Year One classes for PE tomorrow so we can make cakes to sell after school for Children in Need.” 

Ryan burst out laughing. “You have to bake together? How very domestic!” 

“With the kids Ryan! We’re taking a group of ten who need support with their social skills and confidence to do it while Jack has the rest of them. But we need them ready for the end of the day, so it’ll be tight.” 

“All while wearing your pyjamas?” 

“Yes.” 

“Working in a primary school is hilarious.” 

“I’ve worn worse to school than my pyjamas. Have to dress up for World Book Day every year too. In my last school, we ended up dressing up every half term or so for one reason or another but apparently this one doesn’t do that, a lot of the parents feel pressured into buying costumes they can't afford so they limit dress up to once a year. At least most kids have pyjamas.” 

“I bet they’re all really excited?” 

Yaz laughed. “You have no idea! Spent most of the day trying to wrangle their attention away from who will wear the best pair tomorrow and boasting about who’s got the prettiest princess pyjamas and if they should wear Spiderman or Batman pyjamas. Always sends them loopy, thank goodness for school uniforms the rest of the year.” 

“Could be worse, you could have your lesson observation tomorrow instead of Monday.” 

“God don’t even joke.” Yaz warned him. “And I'm trying not to think about the observation. They’ll go between my class and Juliette’s to make sure we’re teaching the kids the same thing at the same time but it’s easy for her, she planned the whole thing. I couldn’t get a word in edgeways but if I change the plan then we’re not teaching the same thing.” 

“Is it a bad plan?” 

“No.” Yaz admitted. “It’s actually a good lesson. But I still would have liked some input. And if Missy doesn’t like the plan and I didn’t get a say in it I still get marked down.” 

“Did you tell Juliette this?” 

“What’s the point? It’s like talking to a brick wall. Her way or the highway, it’s like no one taught her to share when she was a kid.” 

Yaz completed her normal morning routine when she arrived at work, feeling slightly like she had forgotten something as she wandered around her pyjamas – they were a sky blue colour with a pattern of rainbows on the leggings and a large rainbow with clouds across the chest. She was also wearing her ridiculous teddy bear slippers that Ryan had bought for her last time she was in hospital and a short dressing gown was on the back of her desk chair in case the classroom got chilly. 

When she checked her emails, there was one from the kitchen to tell her that the ingredients they had ordered for baking the cupcakes had arrived in the catering kitchen but needed to be moved to the kid’s kitchen as soon as possible. On her way past Juliette’s classroom, she glanced in to ask the other woman to give her a hand although unusually, she wasn’t there. Maybe she had already started setting up? But she wasn’t in the kitchen when Yaz arrived, and the cook claimed not to have seen her. 

It took Yaz six trips to move all the ingredients by herself. There were four separate groups using the kitchen at various points during the day to cook for the bake sale after school but Yaz ended up lugging everything down on her own, they were heavy, and her stomach was hurting by the time she had finished. She knew that was probably in her head, she hadn’t been able to lift things for a long time but she was, supposedly anyway, fully healed now. Or at least as healed as she was going to get and lifting things shouldn’t be a problem anymore.

Irritated that no one else had bothered to come and help, Yaz separated out the ingredients she knew she and Juliette had ordered specifically for their fairy cakes and top hats, not wanting any of the other classes to use them and put them in a large box with a lid on which she labelled as Year One before heading back down to her classroom. After all that, she only had half an hour to get her day fully set up which never felt long enough. 

“Nice PJs” came a voice from behind, just as Yaz was just about to walk into her room and causing her to jump about a foot in the air. 

Missy had appeared from nowhere and she had Juliette behind her, her wheels never made a sound across the carpeted floors, and she was wearing… exactly the same pyjamas that Yaz was, the only difference being that she was wearing a long-sleeved white t-shirt under hers They even had matching Pudsey ears though admittedly most of the staff had those on. The only difference as that instead of slippers she was wearing the thickly padded boots she always seemed to wear. Now the weather was so much colder Yaz understood it but not back in September when everyone else had been wearing sandals – they were more akin to snow boots than anything else.

“I was just telling Doctor Smith the arrangements for this afternoon.” Missy explained. “As you know, the younger classes are doing all the baking today and the older classes will run the sale later, but I’ll leave her to explain the details.” 

Yaz nodded, feeling slightly nettle that Juliette had been given all the information and now she would have to receive it all second hand. Not that Juliette wouldn’t produce it verbatim because she almost certainly would, her memory was annoyingly good, but it would have been nice to have been included in the apparently private briefing with the head.

“Anyway, I love that you too have coordinated! Great commitment, do you mind if I take a photo for the newsletter?” 

Behind Missy, Yaz could have sworn she saw Juliette roll her eyes, but she didn’t object so Yaz didn’t feel like she could either and she unenthusiastically followed Missy to a plain wall. Missy pulled out her tablet that she had been carrying around with her as Yaz reluctantly stood beside Juliette who had reversed into place and had her hands resting on her legs. 

Yaz dithered. What was she supposed to do? Crouch down awkwardly so they were the same height? Stand up so she was towering over her (well she wasn’t that tall, but Juliette only reached just past her elbows). If she was posing with her friends, she would wrap an arm around them without thinking about it but she and Juliette barely tolerated each other and it felt disrespectful. And she couldn’t help but wonder if it would actually hurt her, she didn’t know why Juliette used a wheelchair but if she was sick then she might be in pain too. Grace had even said she might use her wheelchair specifically because she was in pain.

"Right can you too act a little less like you hate each other?" Missy asked, clearly struggling to get them both into the frame of the picture in the relatively cramped space of the corridor. 

Yaz shuffled a few inches forward and Juliette rolled her eyes at her. 

"I don't have some kind of contagious disease you know,” Juliette snapped irritably.

Yaz felt her cheeks flush and she moved a little closer again so she was standing right beside Juliette, sufficiently close that she could smell her tea tree scented shampoo. She vaguely wondered who already annoyed Juliette that morning, she wasn’t usually irritable unless someone, usually Yaz, had annoyed her.

"For goodness sake you two, it's a photograph not a death squad. You look like you're posing in the Victorian period, all stiff and no smiles." Missy complained. 

Yaz tried hard to relax and smile but it was hard, she could feel just how close Juliette was to her and she didn't like it. She was intimidating.

Finally, Missy released them, mumbling about how they could have tried a little harder and Yaz moved away quickly, anxious to be out of the awkward situation though Juliette appeared as unruffled as ever. 

As Yaz had predicted, the kids were very over excited that day as they streamed in, fuelled by the novelty of wearing their pyjamas. Instead of the normal blue uniform, the classroom felt a lot fuller with the children dressed in pyjamas decorated with superheroes, tv characters, loud patterns and more. As usual there were a couple of kids who had taken the opportunity to come in a fancy dress outfit despite the day clearly being advertised as a pyjama day which was going to make their PE session with Jack considerably more difficult. Yaz hoped they had something more sensible on underneath. 

By lunchtime, Yaz was very relieved to be able to hand the kids over to the midday supervisors, knowing that someone else would take responsibility for them for the rest of the afternoon. All she would have to do was spend the afternoon in a small kitchen with Juliette and their ten neediest, most difficult kids. 

At lunchtime Yaz ate her lunch on the go as she tried to get everything in the kitchen set up. The Year Threes who had been in there just before lunch hadn't done a great job of cleaning up and everything she touched seemed to be sticky and she attacked it all with a sponge, soapy water and Dettol before she began to start setting up. But by the time she was satisfied with the cleanliness, more than half the lunch hour was gone and she hadn't got anything ready to go. And Juliette _still_ hadn't appeared to help. She was many things but lazy wasn't one of them, in fact she was normally annoyingly efficient, and Yaz went down to her classroom to find her, still chewing her last bite of sandwich. 

Yaz went in through her own classroom and then opened the door that connected their two classrooms. Juliette was there but it was what she was doing that made Yaz stop and stare. She was using an inhaler, maybe, it didn't look much like a blue asthma inhaler, or indeed any inhaler she had seen before. It had a full mask that went over her mouth and nose, a thick chamber and the inhaler at the end of it was white and green. She was leaning forwards slightly against her desk as she kept the... device clamped tightly against her face. She met Yaz's gaze over the top of the inhaler, giving it another puff. Yaz fidgeted awkwardly. It seemed rude to just leave again and she had seen it now. But it also felt rude to stand and stare. She dithered. It was nearly a full minute before Juliette put it down on the desk beside her and Yaz couldn't help but notice a pile of medication on a plate on the table beside her. She didn't count them but there must have been twelve or fifteen of them in various shapes and sizes. 

What the hell was wrong with her that made her so sick that she was taking all that medication? 

Yaz took plenty for her own issues but she took that many over the course of a day not in one sitting. Even at the worst of her health problems she hadn’t taken that much at once. It was a wonder Juliette didn't rattle with that much medication inside her. 

Juliette ignored Yaz as she swallowed the medication three and four tablets at a time with her water bottle, then picked up her pen in the odd way that she did and marked something off in a grid before finally turning her attention to Yaz. 

“Can I help you or would you like to stare at me some more?” Juliette demanded.

She didn’t seem angry as such, but her voice was cold. It could be hard to tell.

"Sorry, I was hoping for some help to get this afternoon set up." Yaz told her, annoyed when her voice stuttered. 

_Why_ did Juliette reduce her to such a wreck every time? 

"I was a bit busy Yasmin." 

"Are you okay?" Yaz asked awkwardly. 

"I'm fine." she replied calmly. 

She was already reversing her chair out from under her desk. Yaz couldn’t help but notice how incredibly thin her legs were in the soft, cotton pyjama leggings, almost like she had no muscles at all. Juliette put the inhaler in her bag which she locked into a cupboard with a key on her lanyard and moved towards the door. 

"I thought you needed help setting up?" she pointed out, looking over her shoulder and halfway through doing battle with her heavy door. 

Yaz snapped back to life and followed her, watching as she rolled the wheels of her chair in a long, smooth movement. But she couldn't help but worry about her, that had been a _lot_ of medication. And what was with the inhaler thing? That looked serious, too serious for Yaz's comfort. The medication and the inhaler, clearly she was seriously ill. Was she... was she dying? Should she even be working? 

Yaz was so lost in her thoughts she nearly walked past the kitchen until Juliette called her back, her eyebrows raised at Yaz's blip. As they started setting up Yaz was aware that her own hands were shaking a little and she felt sick.

Yaz could feel Juliette watching her but she couldn't bring herself to look her in the eye, if she did she knew she would probably start crying. She didn’t like Juliette much and she wasn’t sure how old she was but she couldn’t be much older than Yaz was. Certainly she was too young to be that sick. Yes, Yaz had her own health issues but they weren’t anywhere near that serious, she certainly wasn’t dying or taking enough medication to constitute a meal. She concentrated on sorting out the equipment, praying that Juliette wouldn't try and initiate conversation - not that that was particularly likely. She was a quiet soul at the best of times, there was never any extraneous chat. 

The kitchen wasn't huge but Yaz hadn't realised how small it was until she watched Juliette try and navigate it in her wheelchair. She could fit between the island in the middle and the counters around the edge but only just. She couldn't turn around, she was going forwards or reversing and most of the equipment was stored out of her reach. Yaz couldn't imagine that she would be able to move around at all once the kids were in. 

Just as Yaz lifted the the baking trays out of a high cupboard, the bell rang signalling the end of lunch and shattering the peace.

"I'll go and get them" Yaz offered quickly. If Juliette _was_ sick, she shouldn't be tiring herself out. It couldn't possibly be good for her. 

It only took Yaz a few minutes to bring the kids in. They were chattering excitedly as she helped them into their aprons and Juliette supervised the hand washing, warning the kids that if their hands went near their faces or hair they would have to go and wash them again. 

Yaz tied her own apron and handed one to Juliette. She draped it over her head but tucked the strings around her rather than tying it behind her back. Maybe it hurt her to move too much? 

Yaz watched Juliette as she gave the kids the standard safety lecture for working in the kitchen. Her hands were expressive, she moved them a lot while she talked and one leg was shaking up and down (impatience, annoyance, just a need to move - Yaz wasn't sure) but the rest of her body was still. Yaz was aware that she walked around a lot while she taught the children and wondered briefly if Juliette wheeled around in her own classroom where there was a lot of space. 

When Juliette had finished, Yaz moved closer to help the children. As anyone could have predicted the baking was messy and chaotic. Yaz had five children with her and was helping them read the numbers on the scales as they weighed out flour, sugar and butter while at the far side of the bench Juliette had the other five kids and was helping them to melt chocolate and organise decorations. She was so gentle and encouraging with the children, so different to how she was with adults as she let them do all the messy jobs and didn’t show any irritation when they made a mess, instead helping them clean it up. 

Yaz was very conscious of how hard working in the confined space and doing an activity most of the kids had never done before was, especially with the kids they were working with. She wanted to help Juliette, to not give her too much to do, but the afternoon was chaotic and it was a two person job to keep the kids under control and get the cakes made so she couldn’t do much.

Yaz was surprised when Juliette actually let her manage the cakes in and out of the oven without complaint or taking over but then again, she couldn’t imagine Juliette could actually get close enough to the oven to get things in and out of it with her wheelchair. And that was without factoring in how low it was. Yaz had seen her pick stuff up from the floor before, she had to almost lever herself back into a seated position, pushing on her legs with her elbows or hands which she obviously couldn’t do with a hot baking tray. What did she do at home? Presumably she lived with her parents or a carer who did most if not all of that stuff? Yaz had wondered about it before but the more she saw her the more she was sure Juliette must need help at home, even if she did seem to manage in school. 

Relatively speaking, the afternoon was uneventful… up until the very end. Three TA’s had just appeared to take the cakes out to the playground for the sale and to escort the children to the rest of the PE lesson while Yaz and Juliette cleaned up when Ashton realised he wasn’t going to get to eat all the cakes. Even though he had been told numerous times that the cakes were part of a cake sale for charity he was furious that they were disappearing in front of his eyes. 

Missy arrived just in time to see Yaz fail to calm him down as he lifted a huge 1kg bag of icing sugar that they had only used one small scoop from and hurl it across the room where it exploded, mostly over Juliette who had been unable to get out of the way in time.

For a moment there was stunned silence. Everyone froze in shock before Ashton started screaming and took off down the corridor. Bizarrely, instead of running away from Missy who had followed him out of the room with a grim “I’ll deal with this,” he instead decided to log roll down the corridor chanting “Fuck the school!” at the top of his lungs, grinning at Missy whenever he caught sight of her. 

The other three adults ushered the other children to the assembly hall for PE and away from the rapidly escalating scene, leaving Yaz and Juliette alone with one of the most colossal messes that Yaz had ever seen. Where were they even supposed to start?

There was icing sugar on the walls, the floor, the counters, their clean dishes, all over Juliette and her wheelchair… somehow it had spread right across the kitchen, sprinkling everything like a fine dusting of snow while yet more of the white powder seemed to be suspended in the air. 

“I… Where… I don’t even know where to start.” Yaz said quietly, staring at the gargantuan mess in front of her. 

Juliette went to reply but started coughing weakly instead. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Yaz asked, suddenly remembering the medication she had seen Juliette taking earlier in the day, most notably the inhaler. 

She nodded, still coughing. 

“Are you sure? Do you need your inhaler thing you had earlier?” She didn’t sound good at all and Yaz watched as she leaned herself forwards, using the edge of the counter for balance but she shook her head, refusing Yaz’s offer of help. 

Short of grabbing the key from around her neck Yaz knew there wasn’t much she could do if Juliette refused help, she was an adult. With a lack of any better ideas Yaz rummaged in one of the cupboards until she found a glass which she filled with water and handed it to Juliette. 

Juliette took it, sipping it slowly in between her coughs until they began to subside. Yaz watched her, worried she was going to collapse on her or something, but she didn’t. The water seemed to do the help and within a few minutes she was sitting up straight again. 

“Thanks,” she said, indicating the now empty glass beside her and Yaz took it off her, putting it in the sink with the rest of the dishes. “There should be cleaning supplies in the cupboard above your head.” She added, her voice a little hoarse from all the coughing. 

Yaz had a look and pulled out anti-bac, sponges and a dustpan and brush. 

“I think we might need the hoover for this lot,” she pointed out. 

“Can’t, it’ll clog it up. This is by hand.” 

Yaz groaned and held out the dustpan and brush in one hand and the sponge in the other. “Where do you want to start?” 

“You sweep the worst of it off the counters, I’ll come along behind you and deal with the stickiness," Juliette instructed, moving forward and holding her hand out for the sponge and cleaning spray Yaz was holding, dislodging a cloud of icing sugar dust in her wake.

"You look like a melting snowman," Yaz blurted out.

Juliette stared at her and for a moment. Yaz wondered if she had upset her and then, without warning, she burst out laughing. Yaz realised she had never heard her laugh before and then she was laughing too, the pair of them in the snowstorm kitchen, doubled over, completely helpless. 

"I can't believe he just log rolled down the corridor shouting that," Yaz howled, clutching the side of the table for support as she laughed. 

"The look on Missy's face!" Juliette wept, leaning across her own knees and holding her stomach for support. "His brother was just as bad when I had him. I remember trying to teach a maths lesson while he crawled around the floor mooing!"

Yaz sobered slightly. "Seriously?"

"Yep!"

"God, Clara did not tell me what this place was like when she told me about the job!"

"Would it have stopped you applying?"

"I don't know." Yaz said slowly. "I suppose not."

She didn't admit that if she had known she was going to work with Juliette she definitely wouldn't have applied.

Cleaning up the mess was diabolical. The icing sugar had spread even further than Yaz had realised, and she and Juliette were at it for close to two hours. Word had spread and several members of staff had come to commiserate with their misfortune though nobody offered to help. It wasn't as bad as it could have been though. While Juliette didn't say much after her uncharacteristic burst of conversation it wasn't an awkward silence either, both of them instead concentrating on their own task. 

When the kitchen was as clean as it was going to get, Juliette excused herself saying she was going home to clean up, although not before reminding her that she would be collecting her obscenely early the next morning for their overnight training course which Yaz was dreading. Yaz trailed exhaustedly down to her classroom. She hadn't even sat down when Clara appeared and handed her a cake.

"Lifesaver!" Yaz exclaimed, tearing the wrapper off gratefully, too tired to care about how much she might regret it later. 

“You deserve it,” Clara told her sincerely.

"Clara" she asked with a mouth full of cake. "Why is Juliette in a wheelchair?"

Clara paused. "I don't know. Never asked her, seems a bit personal. Think Jack did once but he didn't get an answer."

"Has she always been... I mean has she gotten... worse since you've known her?" Yaz asked, struggling for the right words. 

"I really don't know her Yaz. You probably know her better than anyone. To me it seems like she's always been the same. What do you mean by worse?"

"Doesn't matter" Yaz shrugged, unwilling to tell Clara about all the medication she had seen Juliette taking earlier. At least if she hadn't gotten obviously worse in the eight years, she and Clara had worked together it hopefully meant whatever she had wasn't too serious or imminently about to cause problems. Hopefully.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! If you liked it, it would be great if you could spare the time to leave a quick comment, they really make my day and are so motivational to keep me writing! 
> 
> If you fancy a chat about this or anything else you can find me on:
> 
> Tumblr: Anobii1992  
> Discord: anobii#8042
> 
> I'm a nice and friendly person, promise!


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